


Fit For A King

by Yuni30



Series: Nymph Hugs [13]
Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fit For A King, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gambling, Inspired by Music, Masterthief's Magnum, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Secret Relationship, Secrets, creating something new, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuni30/pseuds/Yuni30
Summary: A gun fit for a king. A gun that starts it all- that brings an emperor to power. A gun that connects lives just by merely being created. That's the only gun fit for a king, an emperor thief.





	1. Fit For A King

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Return of the Porcine Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/376233) by moonbird. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Yuni owns nothing but the ideas of how things go in this chapter. She also owns whatever fleshed out character traits she had given to the blackjack dealer in the casino. Please consider this before you review.

In the emperor's chambers of a palace, on a magenta sofa sat two brothers, a prince, and a thief. The rest of their party had left them to their devices- the savior of their world back in his own and the familiar tamer back home in the desert city of Al Mamoon. The fairy was who knows where. Honestly, if it weren't for the guards recognizing him as one of Oliver's friends, the rogue would have been unwelcome.

Swaine had visited his brother after about a couple of months or so traveling again. Despite all the things he had been through, all the battles and rough terrain he had managed to survive, he still struggled to find his lot in life. Oh, he had given up stealing from people to survive- that was a given after joining the young wizard. Most of his funds came from bounty hunts, now a day. Some of the items from them he sold to earn a decent amount of funds to live on while moving from place to place.

Despite all of that, it was nice to at least have a place to come back to. It was nice to have someone close to welcome him home.

"So… I've been thinking of a new gun. This Highwayman's Handgun's seen better days, I'll tell you," he began, holding up a gold gun with a claw-like attachment at the end of it. What gleam it once probably had dulled and numerous scratches covered its surface. Despite this, it seemed to still be in working order.

"Oh," Marcassin, his brother, responded with a raised eyebrow. The young ruler was always eager to hear his older sibling's machinations on machinery and gadgets, even if some concepts eluded him. "Have you any plans for it, then," he asked, lifting his head to face the older rougher man next to him.

The thief chuckled, pulling out a rolled-up paper from the bronze colored burlap satchel hanging from his lanky shoulders. "To the point as ever, Marcassin." He unfurled it, revealing an oddly shaped gun with a barrel and muzzle in a plus-shaped pattern with claw-like protrusions on the top and bottom of it. The handle looked like an average flintlock design, despite its weird shape. "I was going to use the famed riddle rivet for part of it. The rest will be made out of either blowpipes or bubble pipes and I figure I can scrap a firing mechanism from an old prototype lying around here. Should be a pretty well-balanced gun, I'd say," he plotted, smirking at the design.

For a moment, the prince with long black hair studied it. He looked up at his brother and met his eyes. Looking down at the paper again, he frowned. "Why not rite stones and scrolls of truth," he advised. "They have powerful magic properties- properties that would enhance the firepower of the weapon without taxing any of the owner's own magic ability."

Swaine jolted back, looking at his brother incredulously. "Scrolls of truth and rit- Marcassin, how the hell am I supposed to build this thing if I can't manipulate the materials! Furthermore, are you bloody aware of how hard it is to get scrolls of truth," he interrogated, flustered.

"We'll build it together, brother," Marcassin said, meeting Swaine's perturbed gaze once again with a fond smile. "I'd like to help you build this one. It's been a while since we've built something together- something just for fun." He saw the lanky man in the green coat relax and look down at his plans. The prince followed suit, admiring his older brother's handy work.

"That's nice, Marcassin. But the materials you want to use are rather hard to acquire. You can only get them under certain conditions, right," he queried, sighing forlornly. "I've done a fair amount of study on these materials helping Oliver with alchemy formulae before you ask."

The ruler nodded wisely. "It'll take quite a bit of hunting," he admitted before looking back at the concerned rogue's face. "I leave your decision up to you. For your sake, I am willing to make time for this," he offered sincerely.

The attention Swaine had on the paper broke as he quickly looked at his brother. "…But the Empire. Marcassin…," he softly reminded in a hushed whisper.

The ruler rolled his eyes indignantly. Despite this, he smirked. "Please, how did the Empire fare when father went on his own missions, Gascon." Marcassin gently laughed and placed a hand on the rugged man's shoulder with a confident air. "You're worrying too much about this, brother."

The older man sighed, closing his eyes for a second. Slowly, he began to nod, eventually looking back at his brother. "Fine… But only because you want to, alright? I could still make this gun with my original design, you know."

"That you could, I have no doubt," Marcassin replied with a chuckle.  


~*~*~

The brothers found themselves in Nazcaa. Rite stones were the first thing they had to collect. They often found themselves puzzled over stones with engravings in them which were, more often than not, not the right stones they needed.

"Remember we're looking for stones that give off a certain magical aura," Marcassin explained after what seemed like the fiftieth fake rite stone.

"I'm sorry if I can't sense magical energy, your sagely-ness," Swaine mocked, bowing exaggeratedly. "The inscriptions on these things aren't exactly the same, you know," he noted, pulling one of the four stones they found out of the burlap bag and showing it to him.

His comments went mostly ignored, save for a gruff sigh from the young prince who now crouched down to observe a bush near the mountainside. He reached in and pulled out another stone. "Here. Gascon, instead of complaining, make yourself useful," he grumpily ordered, throwing the stone at the thief for him to catch.

Swaine hissed and fumbled with it between his own two hands, flinching. "Careful! I know these things are rocks, but geez!" He glared at Marcassin as he pocketed the stone. He received a cheeky smirk in return.

It took a while, but eventually, they found all ten that they needed. Tired from all the searching, they set up camp near a hillside for the night. As the day drew to an end over the nation of Nazcaa, they watched the sunset.

"Ah, beautiful," the ruler sighed from next to the campfire, idly poking it. "I envy you, Gascon. You've been able to see sights like this on a daily basis."

"Heh." Swaine leaned back on his hands while sitting cross-legged on the ground on the other side. He looked up at the vibrant gold and orange sky over their tiny camp. "I guess it is kind of nice. There are some things you take for granted, I guess."

"Indeed. Then we shall not take this situation for granted- how often do you get to watch the sunset with your brother," Marcassin fondly lamented, smiling as birds flew in front of the view.

"You have a point." And that was all Swaine had to say as they enjoyed the spectacle with one another. When night finally came, they had eaten the rations they had packed and began to turn in.

"Welp," the thief began. "Tomorrow the scrolls of truth… That'll be fun," Swaine yawned from his place on the ground.

"I look forward to it," the prince responded sleepily, rolling over in his sleeping bag to face away from the dying campfire.  


~*~*~

It was on to the Tombstone Trail near home. Both figured that if either got too worn out or in trouble, they could easily escape back to Hamelin. The only way to get the famed scrolls of truth was to steal from an avian creature called a honky-tonker, a trumpet beaked bird with a piano pattern for a frill. It wasn't just any old honky-tonker, but a golden one that could only be found in a cave further on up the trail.

"Oh, brother. Remember this? You got so mad at me for lying to you, if I recall," Marcassin laughed as they stopped for a break at the old abandoned cabin.

"Yeah, sorry about that," the lanky thief sheepishly replied with a rub of the back of his neck. "You really were just trying to look out for me, weren't you? Then I went and left anyway…," he reflected, his tone slightly bitter. He saw a worried look from Marcassin and put on a more upbeat countenance. "What a mess I was back then, eh? Things certainly have changed since."

The ruler smiled and nodded as he continued to eat his sandwich. When his mouth was clear, he looked to the thief. "Are you going to eat yours? We've got a long way to go, still."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he nonchalantly reassured.

They managed to get at least two of the scrolls from the beasts. Some of them just didn't have it on them. The things were tiny, so Marcassin held them.

That… turned out to be a huge mistake. The cave had its fair share of blind spots as well as curse traps. Despite his infinite wisdom, the sage found himself afflicted by one of these traps and stumbled around in the dark in front of Swaine.

Still recoiling from the condition, the sage didn't see a ledge in a shadowy part of the candlelit cave. He fell with a shocked yelp into the abyss.

"Marcassin," the thief shouted, quickly grabbing his gun and activating the grappling function. He dove for the ledge, a third of his upper body hanging over it. He held the handgun with both hands, having fired it into the dark in hopes it would snag his brother.

His practice in performing trick maneuvers did not fail him as he felt a heavy tug on the end of the wire. Straining, he pulled himself back off the ledge. He tugged up sharply on the gun which triggered the cable to retract, steadily retrieving what was on the other end. "M-Marcassin," he hesitantly, worriedly gasped as he got to his feet, continuously backing up.

Oh, god… Please don't tell me… Don't tell me I was too late. He internally fretted, fearing the worst.

A hand grabbed the edge of the chasm and a frazzled Hamelin ruler pulled himself up with the aid of a grappling claw that persistently held onto his tunic sleeve. Relieved, the thief tapped twice lightly on the trigger, releasing the claw when he was sure his brother was on the stable ground once again.

"It's a good thing Hamelin tailors make sturdy clothing," Marcassin nervously admired the sleeve of his decorated turquoise cardigan. He felt nerve-racked hands grip his shoulders and he stared up to find a more than a little shaken Swaine.

"Marcassin! Oh, thank goodness. Are you alright," the lanky rogue asked, looking the prince over.

"Protective big brother to the very end as ever," he noted softly, shakily. "To answer your question, I'm fine." He flashed a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Gascon."

Swaine let go and found himself collapsing against a nearby wall, looking up at the young sage. He let out a deep shaky sigh. "There's a few years of my life taken off. Urgh," he groaned as he looked down. When he looked up, his eyes widened. His younger brother seemed to be patting himself down. "What," he began irritably, dreading the inevitable answer. "You didn't, did you?"

Marcassin turned to face the man with only regret. He silently nodded, his hands limply dangling at his side.

The thief's energy returned to him in almost an instant as he leaped up and punched the cave wall. "Goddammit, Marcassin," he snapped. He turned and glowered at the sage. "Two. Two of them. Lost. All that work, and for what," he roared with both fists shaking in front of him. He stomped around in that small little area, letting his frustration vent out of him.

He finally stopped and shook his head. "Sorry. I guess I really shouldn't blame you," he calmly, but grumpily corrected himself. "Really, I should just be happy you didn't die just now. That's what's important… Some brother I am." He threw his hands up.

Guiltily, Marcassin looked away. He swallowed, fighting a lump in his throat. "Don't worry yourself so much… I should have given you the scrolls." He delicately placed a hand to his own forehead, exhaling heavily as he closed his eyes. "I suppose it goes without saying, but I am in your debt, brother," he said as he looked back up at the rogue, his hand dropping to his side, again.

"Don't start. You don't owe me anything," Swaine retorted, rolling his eyes. "Forget about it, would you?" He shook his head again with another deep and tired sigh. Placing his own hand to his brow. "Let's just- Let's continue hunting these things down, shall we?"

"Are you sure," Marcassin asked, taking a step towards his brother. "Perhaps we should rest."

Swaine studied the prince's concerned face, staring passed his arm. We're back down to zero… If we could just- If we could get three. Just three of those damned scrolls… His frown increased as he felt a pang of fatigue wash over him. The younger man in front of him looked a bit worse for wear himself, despite his regal attire. Slowly, the thief nodded with his hand still plastered to his forehead. "Yeah… Yeah," he reluctantly agreed, though his worn out tone betrayed him. "I know a place down the trail- a casino."

"Casino," the prince questioned, a critical eyebrow raised. He was well aware of the famed Crypt Casino on the Tombstone trail, but he didn't exactly rate it as a place he could easily relax in. "Why there?"

"Well, for one," Swaine answered as he pushed himself away from the wall. "Gambling is a fun way to get your mind off things- 'specially if you have a good amount stacked in your favor at the establishment. Hell, I'll share some of my chips. You'd love Platoon."

Marcassin paused for a moment, confusion washing over his features. Platoon…? Like a platoon of men? He seemed to be considering his next question. Finally, he asked, "…What's _Platoon_?"

The thief was already heading in the direction of the Casino. He rolled his eyes as he heard his royal highness follow him. "Brother, I'm serious. What do you mean by 'Platoon'," he heard him ask again.

"You'll see…"  


~*~*~

They entered the Crypt Casino. It seemed to have a slightly eerie feel to it as skeletons and ghosts littered the interior. On the walls were jack-o-lanterns and the candelabra light posts skittered about on four spider-like legs. Despite this, the gambling den for the undead was seemingly lit by the slot machines and a bright blue ghoulish aura behind some of the tables.

Swaine received a decent amount of chips- about twenty or so worth varying amounts- from the cashier and shared some with his brother. "Just head on over to the Platoon table and ask the dealer how to play." He motioned to the white-haired lady behind a counter across the room. "I'll be over at the Blackjack table if you need me," he indicated, jabbing his thumb to the closest table. Behind it was a brown-haired woman with a witch's hat and a black dress adorned with an orange belt tied in a bow behind her back.

"You come here often, do you," the prince wondered suspiciously. He wasn't sure if he approved of this newly discovered habit of his brother.

"Don't worry, _your purity_ ," Swaine quipped. "All of this is built up from a good amount of wise playing. I don't throw away my chips," he explained. He leaned in and whispered in the ruler's ear. "Between you and me, I haven't spent a cent more than when I bought the first ten," he divulged cheekily. He straightened back up and walked over to the Blackjack table.

The lady behind the table was in the middle of shuffling her cards and cleaning up for the next player. She looked up to see a regular of the casino- a man with dark fluffy but messy brown hair dressed in a shabby coat. "Well, if it isn't our favorite wanderer," she greeted. "Here for another batch of hands?"

He smirked as he took a seat while resting an arm on the bar. "Of course, Abbie," he replied. This was the only game in the casino he seemed to enjoy. Something about the simplicity and how it involved a bit of risk. They played a couple of rounds.

He didn't fare so well this time, losing a few rounds. "This isn't like you. I mean, you don't really ever look like the lucky type, but three in a row," she asked, though smirking at how often he lost. "Did you hit your head or something?" She leaned over the counter at the increasingly annoyed thief.

"I might as well have," he grumbled, looking to the side. "I lost something on the trail that I had been hunting."

The dealer quizzically looked at him. "Lost something? Care to tell," she asked as she shuffled the cards.

"Only if we play another hand," he bartered, smirking.

Abbie nodded and distributed the cards. When Swaine picked them up, he began to plan his next move. A hit would add an almost random amount to his hand. Either it would be too much, too little, or just the right amount. At the moment he had seventeen. "Hit," he requested, eyeing the cards in the dealer's delicate hand. She nodded and drew a card from the pile, handing it to the rogue.

"Ha! Blackjack," he shouted, placing the queen, seven, and four cards down.

She threw her cards down, displaying a worth of sixteen. "As if I care," she snapped competitively. She tallied the chips up to three times the original bet, setting them aside. "Are you going to tell me, or what," she grumpily requested as she slammed her hands on the table, leaning over it.

Swaine eased her with a hand. "Alright, alright. A deal's a deal," he allowed. "I lost some scrolls of truth. I'm working on a new gadget, you see."

"Oh, an inventor," she admired with an interested smile. "I wish I could help you. Sadly, all I can provide is blackjack," she apologized with a shrug. She offered another round and he accepted.

"Trust me, Abbie. You're helping plenty right now. Blackjack's a good out," he responded calmly. "I stand," he conceded, placing his hand down- a hand of eighteen.

Abbie looked down at her opponent's hand and drew a couple of cards. "Ooh, sorry," she hissed, putting her hand down. "Hehe! I win," she laughed as she watched the man lean back on the stool with a hand slapped over his face. She had a hand of twenty.

"How do you even-," he started, staring at both sides in shock. He growled. "Another hand, you."

The dealer nodded. "With pleasure."  


~*~*~

The two brothers left the casino. Though empty-handed both had increased the number of chips they had had originally- the prince especially.

"I didn't think a strategic card game like that existed. I found it rather fun," Marcassin reflected, smiling.

"Told you. I hope you've had your fun- we've got some serious headway to make," he informed warily. Despite this, he had his hands behind his head as he nonchalantly walked the trail with Marcassin at his side.

Battle after battle, stolen item after stolen item, they tried. The damn birds were mocking them, it almost seemed.

The thief twirled his gun, ready to steal something that glimmered in the creature's frock. He fired and to his dismay received a shiny crystal. "Y'know," he began in an annoyed drawl. "I'm getting real sick and tired of this shit," he swore as he begun to fire at the advancing creature.

"Such language doesn't befit you, Gascon," the sage warned, casting a light-based attack.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped, taking one last shot at the creature. As it fell, he turned to face Marcassin, smirking. "And don't tell me you're not tired of getting the wrong thing, too."

The prince sighed and looked away pensively. "I can't say that I'm not." He stopped and looked back to the rugged man before him. "How many do we have now?"

Swaine reached for his satchel and rifled through it, silently counting. "Three," he answered. Just two more and then back to Hamelin, he thought. "Let's try to get through with it," he groaned as he closed the bag and clutched the shoulder strap and walked forward. They headed towards the shadowy area where Marcassin had nearly fallen to his doom. The thief stopped when he saw a familiar hat adorned woman climbing out of the pit.

"…Abbie? The hell…," he whispered.

"No doubt about it. These have to be them," she muttered to herself, holding two small glimmering rolled pieces of parchment two her chest. "That Swaine…," she complained still unaware of her audience. "He owes me, now- Yipe!" She jumped at the sight of her topic.

"'I owe you' what, Abbie," he pointedly inquired his hands on his hips. "Also," he started, glaring at the scrolls, then the dealer's face, and then at the chasm behind her. "Why were you even down there in the first place? Don't you have a table to run?"

The brown-haired witch stomped a boot adorned foot in her usual quick tempered manner. "I'll have you know it's my break, sir. What I do on my break is none of your business," she fussed. She threw up a hand and shook her head. "Never-mind." She quickly walked up to Swaine and handed him the two scrolls. "You dropped this, you klutz." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Then again, I'm not surprised in the slightest. You trip over yourself a lot in the casino."

He took the scrolls from her hand, still confused at the entire situation. "How'd you know where to even look, Abbie?"

"I didn't," she stated, glaring at Swaine. "I was taking a walk up the trail and I saw these shining things at the bottom of this hole. So, I climbed down and got them."

Marcassin looked at his brother and then the girl. "You climbed down… and just picked them up? Wasn't that a long way down? How'd you even see them from that distance," the prince asked, baffled.

"I've got good eyes and years of climbing experience," she stated, smirking. "It definitely gave me a good work out." She rolled her shoulders and began to walk past the two, tapping Swaine's left arm. "You owe me one-hundred hands of blackjack, now."

Scoffing, he turned to Abbie with a smirk. "Do I at least get my chips?"

"House policy," she returned with her back to him.

The thief watched as she walked back toward her occupation, still holding the scrolls in his hand. He distractedly looked down at the glowing parchment. That was pure luck. It had to be, he thought. He squinted, pushing away the notion. No, there's a reason that happened. I just don't know, yet, he argued optimistically.

"Brother," Swaine heard Marcassin call. He turned to face the prince suddenly. "Sorry. Got lost in thought." He nodded affirmatively. "Let's go back to Hamelin… Let's go home," he fondly said.

Marcassin smiled and pulled out the sky tree wand given to him by Oliver, the savior from another world. He cast a teleportation spell.  


~*~*~

They sat in the inner sanctum once again after a night of sleep. This time they had all the parts laid out on the coffee table. They exchanged a glance and smiled confidently at each other. The two looked back at the items and begun their work.

As Marcassin manipulated the stones and scrolls to fit their intended purpose, his older brother fastened them to the rivet. With their combined talents, the gun began to take form.

Eventually, the two beheld a magnificent blue and white pistol with golden accents. It glimmered in the incandescent lamp light of the room and reflected the brother's faces in the barrel, both of which were proud of their handiwork.

"This was a triumph," the sage shouted in grand excitement, beaming at the sight.

Swaine picked it up, holding it in his hands as if he were weighing it. He shook it near his ear, listening for any loose parts. When he finally determined it was sound, he took aim at a pillow that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner. "You don't mind if I shoot it, do you," he asked, smirking.

"Are you serious," the prince exclaimed. "Gascon, what if it damages the wall?!"

The thief rolled his eyes and got up. "Fine. I'll go to the royal training grounds," he moaned, swaying his head in annoyance. He walked out of the room, leaving the prince behind him.

Generally, the training grounds were for the personal royal guard to practice weapon handling- be it sword or gun. There was usually a schedule for this type of training, and according to Swaine's memory, no one would be there at that time.

In lamp lit training hall, the thief found himself facing an array of straw dummies. He smirked as he drew the gun he had now named the Masterthief's Magnum. He fired at each one, calculating in his head how the gun performed. Not much recoil and it did decent spread damage, it seemed. The dummies were still mostly intact but showed ware from the shots taken. The true test was the grappling function. He took out an ordinary stone and buried it in one of the dummy's chest. Stepping back, he fired behind his back with his hand stretched toward the fake adversary.

Its claws grabbed it with ease and immediately jolted back to the weapon- the thief quickly pocketing the stone.

"Can't say much for its other purposes, brother, but it certainly is a gun fit for an emperor," he heard a lighter familiar voice comment. Swaine turned to see his brother standing at the entrance of the training hall. The prince smiled at his older brother.

"I'm no emperor, Marcassin. You know that," he stated, smirking at the gun in his hands.

Marcassin considered his words. If there was a time to request his brother's services, it was definitely now. "Gascon… I don't believe you," he stated finally. "You know better than I would about the common man. You have skills that would fill the gap in my own."

"Marcassin…" he softly began to protest, admiring the gun.

"Don't you dare," the sage ordered. "Look at that gun and tell me that we wouldn't rule better together. Side by side… You and me…," he paused. Marcassin approached the older man. "You have a genuine concern for this country- I can tell…," he persuaded. "And I need someone who understands the people- who has lived the life they have. What better than my brother who has traveled the _world_ to save it?"

"Father wanted us to rule together. I can feel it," he coaxed, pressing a hand onto the barrel of the gun and the other over his heart. "I felt it when we made the Clarion and I felt it when we made this gun. Our strengths are better together than they are alone, don't you see," he softly encouraged, looking into the doubtful eyes of Swaine.

The thief stayed silent, only able to stare down at the weapon in his hands. He'd be lying if he didn't feel the same. A glimmer of confidence began to show in his eyes, though they remained clouded in unease.

"Even if they are, it doesn't change the law, Marcassin. Besides, I don't even look like a ruler. Nor do I sound or act like one," he finally replied, looking the prince in the eye.

Marcassin laughed lightheartedly. "Laws can be changed, brother." He thought for a moment, taking his left hand down from his chest. "And so can you- Well, in appearance. I'm sure you've still got some class left in there somewhere," he joked.

The thief sighed and shook his head. "Fine, let's give this a shot," he reluctantly agreed, flashing his younger brother a half-confident smile and wagging his finger. "But as soon as this place starts going to the dogs, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Please, I doubt it will if I'm around, Gascon," Marcassin said as he lifted his hand from the newly made magnum.

The beginning of a new era was about to begin- the era of two emperors as well as two brothers of machine and magic working together.


	2. An Emperor Thief's Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two of Fit For A King. I took some heavy inspiration from [moonbird](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1576308/moonbird)'s _[Return of the Porcine Prince](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10791203/1/Return-of-the-Porcine-Prince)_ here. It's based on a scene where Swaine takes up the role of emperor under rather different circumstances. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights, just characters and ideas. Sorry.
> 
> _Edit: Made some adjustments to this chapter in particular thanks to some of[moonbird](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1576308/moonbird)'s suggestions. Also, those suggestions helped fill a void in character interaction I felt was missing. I hope these changes are welcome!_

A lanky figure stood in the throne room of the Porcine Palace, admiring the interior. This room had seen so many historical scenes. It had seen the coronation of the previous Emperor as well as his death. It had seen the rise and fall of Marcassin. It had seen the reunion of two brothers and the creation of the Clarion. Finally, it had seen the creation of a weapon that had brought him back to square one.

"What am I doing here," he asked himself, looking down at his Masterthief's Magnum pistol in his hands. He had agreed to rule side by side with his brother. He _still_ wasn't sure who he was entirely or whether he was suited for his unexpected role.

 _"Let the past stay in the past,"_ he recalled his brother telling the queen of Nazcaa… How did she fare, now, anyhow? He shook that thought away, regaining his focus. "Maybe I should take his advice…," he muttered, recalling all the reasons he questioned himself as he looked up at the magenta sofa in front of him. He then turned around and began to walk out, pocketing the gun.

It wouldn't be long. That room would soon house not one, but two emperors ruling side by side, taking up issues the other could not. For some reason, that thought brought a bit of comfort to the rogue.

As he walked with his hands behind his head nonchalantly through the halls of the palace, he heard arguing from one room in particular. He stopped, assumed a less casual posture- out of slight concern- and stared at the door. From inside, he heard familiar voices.

"And how are we to be sure that this man _is_ Gascon, your excellence," an older man's voice snapped from within.

"How are you so sure he's not? Being his brother, I've known him since the day I was born. I think I would be able to tell if he wasn't," he heard Marcassin argue. Swaine leaned against a wall next to the door, listening to the meeting.

"Even if he was, you can't just change a law that's been proven successful for centuries," another council member spoke up. Ever since his days as a prince, even prior to his father before him, there had been a council to aid legal decisions. Most times, they'd agree with a change or new law, but then there were times like these. Tradition would bar their ability to reason at times. Ethics would also be called into question. At times, even petty greed would get in the way. Swaine couldn't say he was all too fond of the idea, now- not with the knowledge of how Nazcaa fell.

Then again, despite his regal upbringing and slightly sheltered life, Marcassin was no pushover. Despite not always being able to converse directly with the public, he didn't let his head get filled with lies. He sought truth and justice above all things. "That law is archaic. Have you any idea how much more we rely on machinery than magic? This is a fortress filled with contraptions and innovations that would put some wizard's abilities to shame."

"Some of our 'contraptions,' as you call them are fueled by magic as well! Sir, do you insinuate that we have no need of magic anymore," one questioned. The former thief heard that same council member stutter in fear. His brother was obviously staring him down, using his authority to silence him.

"I am simply saying," he began, scathingly. "That magic is no longer the forefront. It still has its use but it is no longer quite as necessary." He seemed to step forward, probably making a grand gesture. "I cannot claim to be intimate with the peoples' plight nor know entirely how to build or fix mechanical creations. We must consider my brother's knowledge for this role!"

"But, your grace…," the same one who questioned him dared to speak. "If that's the case, why not political or engineering advisor? Or perhaps an informant?"

Swaine's eyes widened at the suggestion. It did have a less severe ring to it than Emperor. He wouldn't be constrained by tradition and title, either. But by that same notion, he would lack the power to order necessary changes to the empire if he wanted to. It would be processed in this manner and unless Marcassin was there to enforce it, some changes could easily be overturned all because of the council's suspicion of him. All because they still didn't believe that he was truly Gascon.

"I do not care if I have to dub him honorary sage to allow my brother fair contest on the throne! Given your doubts, you would abuse your power. I shall not have it," the prince adamantly argued. That made the man listening smile. Even if he wasn't in that very room, they were on the same page.

"'Honorary Sage,'" the oldest of the council shouted, standing suddenly- the thief heard a chair push back. "He has no magic!"

Finally, Swaine decided to fight his own battle from here. He took advantage of the grooming he had received. Honestly, he didn't want them to cut too much of his hair off- just the damaged parts. He liked having something around his ears to keep them warm in cold mechanical Hamelin. This led to him having slightly wavy hair flowing down to fluffed up curls at his shoulders and bangs that seemed to wave and curl over his forehead. He even had a shave- he wasn't growing a beard anytime soon.

He opened both doors in a display of power. As he strode in, his long dark green cape with a large magenta stripe at the hem of it followed him, revealing a simple red tunic, long dark blue pants, a wide brown belt, and brown buckled shoes adorning the thin frame underneath. He took note of the council: two elderly men- one of larger stature and the other about average-, a younger man in his early twenties, and a man about his age sat before the princes of Hamelin.

"So," he firmly addressed. "What's this I hear about magic? I'll have you know, I tend to create my own," he cheekily corrected, smirking at the old man standing at the end of the table.

He saw the slightly rotund elder's face go red. "You were not invited to this meeting… _sir_ ," he irritably informed, holding back his anger.

"Oh? But am I not prince Gascon of Hamelin? Original heir to the throne? I would think I'd be invited to a meeting that would decide my own future, now wouldn't I," he pointedly asked.

That made the man turn an even deeper shade of red as he balled up his fists. "How dare you," he snapped. "Interrupting a meeting with the royal council! You may be dressed as a royal, but you lack the manner!" His attention focused on Marcassin suddenly. "Your excellence," he hissed. "Could you kindly have this man removed so we may continue?"

For a moment, the prince paused. If it were any other person, they would have been thrown out at once. He looked at his brother whose attention seemed fixated on the angry councilman. He seemed calm and undeterred by the man in front of him. He had come to fight his own battle rather than let Marcassin fight it for him. He interrupted a meeting, yes, but the older prince had a point- he should have been involved from the very start.

"No. I cannot comply with your request, Sir Gligan. He stays," the sage stoically answered.

The white hairs of his mustache and goatee bristled before he let out an enraged, "Excuse me?!"

The ruler slammed his hand on the table, drawing everyone but his older brother's attention to it. "Sir Gligan, you seem to forget who rules this nation! You will either see this meeting through or you will leave. Like it or not, Gascon-," he indicated with an arm suddenly outstretched to the lanky man beside him. "-Stays!"

The portly elderly man crossed his arms and glared at the lanky figure. "I refuse to accept such a rude figure as any form of authority, _your highness_."

Before the prince could say anything in response, the former thief stepped forward, realizing he had crossed some boundaries entering. "I apologize… Sir Gligan, was it? I probably should have waited to make my appearance at a later time, it seems." He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed courteously. "But I couldn't help but hear my brother struggling, albeit admirably, to sway you in the case of my identity." He rose from his bow, remembering to keep his back straight.

His own speech shocked him, though he refused to show it. He hadn't spoken so eloquently since he was a kid. He quickly summed it up to old habits… but language didn't work like that, did it? He hadn't had any instruction since he took Marcassin up on his offer, so that left all the time spent with his brother being the root of his sudden well-mannered response. "At the same time, I refused to let the issue of that law slide without my input." He turned to look at his younger brother with a slight smirk. "Someone forgot they have executive power and can use it when they like. Seems funny as that's probably how all those now useless decrees came into play."

The middle-aged man was next to stand. "Must you insult his majesty," he contested irritably.

"Hogarth, please…," the prince interjected, staying the dressed down captain of the guard. He glanced over at Swaine. "I was hoping to null the law with proper counsel, but it seems that I have no choice. So…" He paused, taking a deep breath as he spread his attention to the council in front of him. "I hereby, by royal decree, abolish the tradition that the ruler of Hamelin must be a sage and that the oldest born have the right to rule as he sees fit! If he has any siblings, he should be, with sound judgment on both accords, able to appoint any of them the title of co-emperor or empress," he declared, holding a hand out to the table as if to solidify the rule.

Hesitant breaths filled the room. The council members all stared at each other and then the sage. Hogarth slammed his hands on the table. "Your majesty, please! Think about this! Gascon has been gone for years and for this man to just come out of the blue-," he hesitated, looking at the supposed older prince then back at Marcassin. "How can you be so sure?"

"You're correct. I _have_ been away for quite some time," the thief in question addressed. He scowled and slammed his hands on the table. "If you don't believe me, then at least take this fact to heart: I've helped save the world _twice_ \- just ask Marcassin," he attested flinging a hand at his brother. "All I ask, whether you think I'm Gascon or not, is to give me- if you'll mind my language- the god damned respect and privilege to prove my worth!" He heaved an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes. He looked up at the silenced occupants of the meeting room. They seemed to be listening, now. He had to push at least one of them… Despite his defiant shouts, for a moment he looked defeated as he looked up with desperate eyes.

He focused on Hogarth, the captain of the guard. "You know, don't you Hogarth? We've met before- the day when the ash disbanded from Hamelin. You gave Marcassin old blueprints of mine for a gun- a pickpocketing gun. A gun that only I use." He looked down at the table. "That was one of the designs I made _as_ Gascon if I recall." He smirked when he saw the captain's face light up with recognition.

Hogarth nodded, smiling. After that ordeal, how could he not trust one of the people that helped lift the curse over Hamelin? He accepted the new law. He nodded again as he looked at the current sole ruler of Hamelin. "Then I shall pledge my allegiance to both Prince Marcassin and Prince Gascon. It is my sworn duty as Captain of the Guard!" He gave another firm, confident nod, this time directed at the thief prince.

"I am grateful for your support, Hogarth." Swaine bowed to him with his hand over his heart, allowing a sense of humility and nobility to show.

The others were harder to convince. "Your excellence," the Sir Gligan protested. "If you are ever away, how will he protect the empire," he continued gruffly. "Furthermore, what can he do that you cannot already, Prince Marcassin?"

The former rogue drew his gun and twirled it, smirking as he heard shocked gasps from the others- save for his brother who only rolled his eyes. When he was done he displayed it in an upright position. "I plan to protect it in the same manner I built, use, and manipulate this gun. I don't need magic to command an army, nor do I need it to out-do an enemy. I don't even need it to defend myself." He tilted his head, flicking the gun up. "I didn't even need it to help save the world."

He narrowed his eyes, analyzing the portly man dressed in what looked like a fine black suit. All he was missing was a monocle. "What sector of the empire do you manage, again, sir?"

"I manage the industrial supply- the factories," he, for once, calmly and coolly stated with some sort of smug pride.

"Then you need to relay to the owners that the pay isn't enough for their hungry workers," Swaine simply observed, looking down.

Bug-eyed, the stately elder looked at the man whose own cape seemed to swallow him whole. "That would increase the cost of goods-," Gligan started, cut off by a wagging finger.

"Only by a little, but not so much it hinders the factory or its staff," the ex-con finished for him. "How do you expect them to churn out high-quality products if they can't afford to eat? Going hungry isn't pleasant, believe me. It can get to a point where food is the only thing you think about," the older prince informed. "I can see the desperation in the workers' eyes every time I'm in that area. Some of them are skin and bones- they almost make me look well fed."

With shame, the prince looked down at the metal floor. "I… Never knew it was that bad…," he quietly began. He looked up at the older man next to him. "I've heard there were some issues with the economy- issues I've been trying to fix, but no matter what, my sources didn't give me all the details," the prince admitted in shocked awe.

"That's because you aren't directly interacting with the Empire," Swaine responded to his brother. "I see it with my own eyes- I will make use of that if I become co-emperor. I know desperation and wanting because I've been there. That's what I can do…" He spoke earnestly as he turned to face the four men in front of him, holding his arms out to the side as he offered his skill. "I can put my knowledge of the world to use! I can increase trade and bring this place back up to par. I can fix whatever is broken that Marcassin cannot." Thinking about what he just said, Swaine shook his head. "This isn't a contest between siblings- my brother is a fine ruler. He would be an even better sage with his brother to pick up the slack!"

With that, he held up his right hand and clenched it into a fist. He remained focused on the group of counselors. "This machine empire needs a mechanically inclined mind as well as a powerful sage to run it, and I can fill that void. This is what, I, Prince- no… Emperor Gascon has to offer!" As he spoke, his eyes lit up with confidence despite the bags under them. His pride rang true in his speech. He had to be honest, it felt good to have this kind of energy coursing through his veins.

The four, in awe of his ambitious speech, did not say anything. They soon looked at each other, compiling any response or question they had- at least that's what it seemed. Finally, the youngest council member got up and looked the campaigning prince directly in the eye. "Do you mean what you say, sir? Every word of it," he quietly challenged.

Locking eyes with the youngster, he smiled. "Every bit. Don't you worry, once I've made up my mind, I stick to it. That's the Gascon way." His smile faded a bit as he looked at the kid. "What do you manage… Erh…"

"Evan. And I manage trade and commerce. I'm the one to go to about the nation's financial future. While his grace has made several strides to improve," he hesitated, warily looking at Marcassin who flashed a kind reassuring smile. "We still have several areas of the Empire that need help. I believe, now, that you can help us," he pleaded.

The fourth man nodded affirmatively. To be honest, Swaine had forgotten he was even there, so it surprised him when a bearded man stood up with calm resolve. "And if you really are who his majesty says you are- if you really have helped save the world, even- then I have no doubt you'll have some plans for our engineering division?"

Taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude in the room, the former thief flinched. "A moment ago you weren't even sure I was Gascon. Why the sudden change in opinion?"

The representative of the engineering sector pointed at the pistol the thief had placed on the table moments ago. "Because a certain little prince with a certain little gun used to steal parts from the royal workshops. That may be a different pistol, but the design is definitely something only Prince Gascon would come up with."

Ah… so it was the pistol that swayed them, he realized, happy to know it was the right choice in showing it off. He smirked. "To answer you both, I will definitely try my best. It'll be a long journey and it will take a bit of work, but I'm sure things will turn out for the better," he optimistically reassured with a firm nod.

~*~*~

The now self-proclaimed emperor stood in front of the doors of the Crypt Casino in his tattered old rags with his hair purposefully tossed about. While people sometimes recognized him as the thief that aided the young wizard Oliver in his quest to save the world, it was few and far between. When people thought of a hero, they didn't think of a man dressed in rags and messy hair and constantly tired eyes.

His guise still worked in that aspect, as no one would suspect such a man to be an emperor either. He walked into the casino under that thought. Even here, people would soon find out about Co-Emperor Gascon. No one would be the wiser that the wanderer who frequented the gambling den was really he.

He wanted to keep it that way, to at least keep this little place a place to escape his troubles. He did mean it when he said he'd improve things. While it certainly did improve since Marcassin recovered, there were still many, many issues that needed resolving and not all of them could be seen or fixed by the sage. He wondered if he had the chops for it. He still had doubts about his own purpose… his own identity.

Who was he…? Was this the right choice, taking up such an important role? Was it something he wanted? At the moment of the meeting, he was so sure… but now he didn't know what he was thinking. He sat down at the blackjack table. How am I going to pull this off? He thought as he laid his head on the table.

"Back to pay up those one-hundred hands, I see," the witch mused, looking at the tired ex-thief in front of her.

When he looked up, a sense of immediate comfort washed over him when he saw that carefree smile she always had. It was here he could relax. Playing blackjack and talking to Abbie helped him unwind. Granted, she wasn't the softest person around, but she always lent an ear when he needed it.

"You bet. It's been a long day and a hundred hands of blackjack would be just what the doctor ordered," he responded with a tired grin.

She chuckled and dealt both his and her sets of cards. "Care to tell," she asked as she swayed back and forth, eyeing her own assortment.

"I recently got a new job." He looked down at the cards and indicated a stand. Her hand won.

"A new job? What is it," she inquired curiously as she shuffled the deck and re-dispersed each other's side.

"Well… I don't want to say too much about the description. It's a bit tricky," he dodged, motioning to the stack to hit. The cards exceeded too much over twenty-one. "Ah, dammit," he hissed, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, got your maths wrong," she laughed.

"More like I got my whole sense of reality wrong. Let's just say I may have jumped into something I don't know if I'm cut out for…"

Another hand shuffled out. "Oh, and why do you say that? You aren't going to give up, are you, you big wimp? You do that plenty here!"

"Would you shut up," he chided, chuckling at her. He looked down pensively at his cards. He didn't really think about what amount they added up to. "I'm not going to- not yet. I'm not sure about my own future, that's all. It's kind of hard to picture yourself doing anything when you don't even understand who you're supposed to be."

The dealer paused. She also looked down with confusion at her hand. She didn't even know who she was either. This was just one side of her life. Outside of the casino, she was expected to live a very different reality. She was supposed to live at higher standards according to other people. "That's normal, y'know…," she finally said.

Swaine hummed in response. He motioned to let the cards stand. Her side lost, and he cashed out the amount he won, starting a new round. "You were a kid once, right," she asked cheerily.

"I was. Hasn't everyone been a kid at some point?"

"Try to think about it, what were you like then? What were your hobbies, your core principles," she advised while studying the cards in her hand.

"Well, I was a bit of a spoiled brat…," he recalled, especially remembering that time he met his past self. "But I also wanted what was best for my brother."

She blinked almost waving her cards down. She quickly raised them back up to avoid showing her hand. "You have a brother…?

He nodded. "Yeah. He's always been pretty great- his talents are the kind that's pretty much ensured his future. Mine…" he sighed as he showed his hand. "Let's just say all I can do is tinker and steal- I was a thief at one point, you know."

"You're not to bad in the looks department," she cracked as she laid down her hand. "I win! I win! Yay," she shouted as she took his chips.

He coughed suddenly and looked up at her in shock. "Then you have really low standards in taste."

"Hmm…" She swayed back and forth. "Well, okay. You aren't Mister Handsome or anything. It's more your personality, Swaine, thief or no," she corrected. They both put their cards down- a draw.

For a moment Swaine stared up at her with a quizzical expression. "Did you…," he began, a smile beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. "You did," he exclaimed, grinning like an idiot. "You just admitted you like me, didn't you?"

"I did not! I was just saying you're not a bad person," she snapped, glaring at him. "Don't go reading into things that aren't there," she warned bitterly, shuffling the cards again. "Besides, you just exposed your own feelings, didn't you? So much for a good poker-face," she half-joked.

"Look who's reading into things that aren't there, now." His grin devolved into a smirk as he looked at his array of choices. "Then again, it goes without saying… Friends are, by definition, people who like each other- who enjoy each other's company, aren't they," he pointed out, ending his turn.

"So… You consider me a friend," she asked, contently smiling. "What have I done to make you think that," she asked as she finally exposed her hand. "Ooh… I guess I pushed my luck a bit far there."

He continued with the current stake. "Well, for starters…" He smiled as he watched her shuffle the cards again. "You don't seem to mind a good chat, even if it's over a game of blackjack. I mean, I can't tell you everything, but a good, careful vent sure does help." He sighed as he picked up his cards. "Thanks for putting up with this crazy wanderer… and thank you for the scrolls."

"I'm just doing my job, Swaine," she humbly admitted, though with a small smile. "And…" She looked up from her cards, down at the undercover royal. "You are who you've always been. You've just changed a couple of things about yourself, that's all," she stated sagely.

"That's… incredibly philosophical from a blackjack dealer," he returned, focusing on his next move.

"Well, whatever role you have currently, might I suggest you do it in your own way? Don't take it so seriously all the time," she fussed as he continued to pensively gaze at his cards. She held back a sigh. These words of advice she gave him were words she had wanted to hear herself. Words she never heard anyone tell her. Her way was never the right way. Her way was unbecoming of a young lady.

"Did you hear me, Abbie? I said, 'Hit'!" Swaine's impatient voice shook her out of her daze and she nodded, passing another card to him. "Are you alright? Is something bothering you," he asked, a concerned look on his tired features.

The witch shook her head and flashed the thief a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Nothing you need to worry about, alright?"

Respecting her wishes, the man nodded at her and let the subject drop. They continued their rounds of blackjack, both internally debating the enigma of their own futures.


	3. The Tale of Lady Abirose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I only own certain original characters and the character traits added to the blackjack dealer. Thanks!

As a blackjack dealer, Abbie was free to be herself- well mostly. There were rules at the Crypt Casino. However, despite his title, the Pit Boss accepted her quirks and appreciated her work. Gambling was fun, even if you were the one providing it, she always figured.

That was one side of her life. That was the life of Abbie, the small-time blackjack witch. Her true identity was rather dull, rather constricting, she felt. Outside of the casino, away from the Tombstone Trail, she was Lady Abirose, or rather, Lady Abirose in training. Her father, though ill was a lord of a land under the control of the Pig Iron Empire. The province was known for mining and smelting and the occasional fishing industry. Well, smelting specifically, creating ingots of various metals and ores for the factories of Hamelin.

She hated her life as a noblewoman. Yes, she knew she wouldn't always be in the most enjoyable circumstances, but she never felt her life was hers on this side. It was her father's life. It was the life she was groomed for, not the life she chose.

She'd be lying to herself, though, if she weren't concerned about her people and the state of the land, however. She squinted out the window at the quiet streets of the town of Eperlan. It seemed so much less lively than her childhood. People weren't exactly dancing and singing, then, but more people were usually out and about. She remembered them excitedly chatting about plans they had for the day. It seemed hardly anyone, now, except the common beggar, roamed the streets. Smelting was done on the outskirts of the town where the minecarts could reach better. That didn't stop people from selling wares in the shopping district, especially the fishermen- but that seemed dead, too.

It all started falling to ruin the day that idiot emperor went nuts, she thought with her head in her hand. It was because of all those decrees he sent out that she really started to resent the sage or the idea of having that much power in one man's hands. All those orders had all but ceased trade from other parts of the Empire and other parts of the world, permanently damaging some of the provinces.

Sighing, she straightened up and looked at the frilly four post bed, complete with pale pink sheets and a matching topper. Looking around the room at the fancy lady like décor, she shook her head. This was never her. As a kid, she ran and climbed trees and even the buildings in Eperlan. She'd always compete with other kids, play rough, and take dangerous dares without thinking. Her nanny, formerly her mother's midwife, Maria, would constantly berate her for it, telling her her behavior was not ladylike. She never cared about all that. She never liked to be just a dainty lady of a land. She liked to gamble, to go out and have fun, to wear what she wanted, speak how she wanted. She wanted to be able to get messy and discover things on her own terms, not delicately read a book. That's what she wanted to do with her life.

Not that she didn't appreciate dresses, though. They were comfortable to wear if one had the right material and they didn't confine her movement. She was wearing a simple white one, now. She dared not wear her witch's costume here, it would probably raise suspicion. Currently, the lie about where she went some days was to a small store just outside of town. Oddly enough, Maria bought it.

"Miss Abirose," called the short dark haired motherly figure from down the hall. She heard her footsteps approaching swiftly. Abirose turned to the door, standing as if a maid waiting for instruction. A knock sounded from the other side. "May I come in madam," the lilting voice of the family servant requested.

The lady in question allowed her loyal servant in. The short but sweet Maria entered, wearing a black gown common to the servant class in many provinces of the country. Bowing her wavy black hair adorned head, she approached the young mistress. "I have important news, miss. It's about your father," she began.

Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. "Has he taken a turn for the worst," she asked fretfully. The last thing she wanted was to see her father's death. If it weren't for his illness, she would have tried to run away. She could have left, but knowing her father's off and on ailments, she stayed for his sake. There were days he could go and perform his duties. Then there were days where it was up to the district collectively. The citizens had grown used to making much of their own decisions without their lord to govern them all the while. Being part of the Empire, making one's own way was part of the culture- meaning the citizens were able to sustain themselves without him. Even then, though, she would take up the role as an acting lady when she could.

The former midwife frowned, wrinkles showing at the corners of her mouth. "He isn't quite at Death's door, but he won't be able to do anything for a while…," she informed sullenly. She brightened up, despite this now frighteningly normal news. "However, that means you will be able to go to the royal coronation in his stead! You'll be able to make your debut as a lady in two days' time," she announced happily, seemingly forgetting that Abirose was just filling in for her father.

This. She hated this above all else. Plans made for her but not by her. Plans where she was expected to not be herself at all. A puppet of her own land- of her own family. She understood- these plans were part of the noble life, but it was the way they expected her to be that annoyed her. She couldn't be her own person because of it. What would happen if she actually took over? Would it be more of the same? More constant nitpicking of her actions?

It couldn't be- so she waited it out. Working at the Crypt Casino was how she passed the time until the day she'd grieve her father's death. Then… After all of the tears and sadness passed, she'd be able to finally take action.

She'd be able to breathe life back into those empty streets. Despite her aimless want to escape, she had plans for this section of the Empire. She'd be her own form of Lady. She'd push to get help for her people, for better trade in this area, for that damn sagely brat to finally acknowledge their part of the continent.

"Miss, didn't you hear," Maria reminded to the now turned back of Abirose who had been lost in thought since she made the announcement.

"A coronation," she asked as she turned around, attempting to recall what her elder said. Is that little Prince Marcassin finally accepting his role of Emperor, then, she thought. Maybe he finally took things seriously.

Maria nodded. "Yes. They say his older brother's returned to join him on the throne so he may better serve the Empire." She beamed at the young lady in front of her. "Prince Gascon will reign as an Emperor so his younger brother can focus more on being a Sage- all so he can protect us all so much better," she mused placing her hands to her flushed cheeks as she gushed. "I don't know how they got around that tradition, but I'm sure he's a welcome addition to the throne."

Abirose sighed. How could adding _another_ royal help? How could Gascon be any better…? I guess since he was the older brother he'd have more experience at least. She shook her head, knowing full well she didn't want to attend. But, there was no one else to go in her father's stead.

"Besides, Lady Abirose, they'll be looking for someone to continue-," she began to insinuate, touching on the fact that the royal family lacked a future heir.

"No, not a chance! Those two pigs can remain childless for all I care. Maybe this nation will be better off with a new family in charge, hmm," she bitterly snapped, not at all pleased by the youngest's reign so far. "I mean, if the older one has run off, then he's probably one irresponsible jerk! He'll run everything into the ground," she reminded as she stomped her feet and turned away, her hands on her hips.

"Do you really mean that miss," Maria asked warningly. "You really shouldn't say such things about the royal family! I hear Prince Marcassin just recovered from his insanity, so you must give him a chance," she scolded, pointing a finger at the bratty witch.

She blinked, having forgotten the prince's plight. He had suffered at the hands of Shadar, his heart broken by the Dark Djinn. Still, it had been _months_ since he recovered, so who was he to not aid the outer lands of his kingdom? Perhaps there was more to this whole "Gascon" business than she saw.

She had to know more, she realized. She had spent so much of her time blaming the young sage for his incompetence, forgetting that crucial part, that it had made her bitter. She had to know more about the situation, about why they so readily added the older prince to the throne. It seemed strange that he didn't take over, she reasoned, that he was ruling _with_ him rather than ruling _over_ him.

She shook her head apologetically. "Sorry. I got a little carried away, Maria." She turned back to face the shorter lady behind her and nodded. "I shall attend his majesty's coronation."

Grinning from ear to ear, seeing how the young lady's attitude had changed, Maria half bowed at her. "I'll start preparations immediately," she joyously announced. She turned and walked out of the room.

She turned back to the window and sighed again. She pressed her hand to her heart and with a burst of wild energy flung it forward, summoning her familiar. It watched as she retrieved a paper and wrote something on it with the quill at her desk. She knelt down to the kill-o'-the-wisp smiling, handing it to the ghost-like creature. "Take this to the Pit Boss, will you, Whistle," she asked it as she secured it with a ribbon. Whistle nodded and floated out the open window towards the Tombstone Trail.

 

~*~*~

The coronation was held in the great hall of the Porcine Palace. Two pig fountains in the back of the hall sprayed water into the center of the flora decorated fixture. Many other lords, ladies, dukes, and duchesses attended the event as well as any remaining sage. Even the two other rulers made an appearance for this occasion.

Being in the palace, the guards made sure to watch every entrance and exit and even closed off certain areas so any guest with a wandering eye could not pass.

The Captain of the guard, Hogarth, stepped up to the mock stage in his finest armor. Nodding, he announced to the crowd, "Now presenting their majesties, Prince Marcassin and Prince Gascon." Royal musicians stationed off to the side sounded triumphant trumpets as the two brothers began to walk out from the right of the room, the eldest and slightly taller Gascon following Marcassin to the center of the stage.

He looks like… she began to think as the upright, neatly groomed prince crossed the stage. For a moment, she swore he glanced in her direction.

She looks like… Abbie…? Gascon began to wonder as he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. He pushed that thought aside, remembering who would be attending. The blackjack dealer wasn't one of those types of people.

There's no way, they both seemed to think in unison, one focused on completing the ceremony, the other focused on the one completing it.

Abirose shook her head and bowed it, closing her eyes. There wasn't a chance in hell that such a well-groomed, well-mannered individual could secretly be the clumsy, ragged thief that frequented the casino every so often.

As she listened to the current ruler's speech praising his older brother, she remembered the man next to the sage had also been away, for what, she didn't know. Perhaps…

 _"I recently got a new job…,"_ the wandering rogue's voice echoed in her mind. _"Let's just say I may have jumped into something I don't know if I'm cut out for…"_

Swaine… she thought, unconsciously holding a loosely clenched hand to her chest. She stared up at the lanky royal shrouded in a deep green cape. Are you… Is this the "job" you took up? She wondered as she studied his face. The man looked so much like the thief she knew, yet not at all.

Gascon couldn't help but notice her attention. Yes, everyone, every last person there was intently focused on the mysterious long-lost prince soon to be crowned co-emperor of Hamelin, but her focus seemed deeper than that. She seemed to be studying him as if he were a puzzle she couldn't understand. I've only ever seen Abbie make that kind of face- it's a face she makes when considering her next move… He noted as he slightly glanced at the girl dressed in white. But only Sages, noblemen, noblewomen, and the other rulers are attending. It couldn't be Abbie… he concluded.

She finally shook her head. No, it couldn't be… It was just mere coincidence that they looked so similar to one another. The man would never be tied down to such a title- he had made that perfectly clear just by the way he talked about his travels. He loved being able to roam and do whatever.

As he took a knee before his brother, graciously bowing his head to receive the pig-nosed medal signifying his reign, the witch in disguise's suspicion dwindled. The two were nothing alike to her.

"Even if Hamelin itself should fall," Marcassin announced grandly- it was the oath the two had prepared for this day. It was the oath of their never-ending solidarity as brothers. "The royal family shall always stand tall," he finished as he placed the amulet around Gascon's neck. The sage motioned him to rise and the new emperor stood.

With a nod, Gascon finished with his right hand over his heart, "Brother to brother until the very end." His smile was wide and confident, nothing like the unsure thief that wandered the land.

And that was the end of the ceremony. People cheered and fellow rulers and sages congratulated the new reigning co-ruler of Hamelin- the first ruler to have next to no magic talent what so ever. They all socialized with each other, some skeptic others optimistic. Some even talked with the man, himself, eager to know what was in store.

Abirose, however, wondered if he even noticed her… or did he ignore her like his brother had in recent years ignored her province. She dared not make a move.

Despite not talking to the man, or making any attempt to, she found him bowing graciously in front of her. She leaned back suddenly, not recalling any attempts to speak to him.

"My lady," he had said as he bowed. As he stood, he smiled kindly at her. "I'm making it a point to get to know every lord and lady of the Empire. It'll help greatly improve things, especially after I've put a face to a name and what they represent."

She smirked, looking at the cape cloaked form in front of her. Just who are you, Emperor Gascon, to need a cape to make you appear much bigger than you are, she wondered. Her features gave way to a sour look. "So…," she curtly began. "How will you be interacting with the public," she asked him.

"Well, that de-," Gascon's reply was quickly silenced by the sound of instruments flaring to life. Right, the royal remembered grudgingly as he looked at the band, Marcassin wanted to make this a dancing affair for the afterparty. He gracefully extended a hand to an equally uneasy lady. "Would you care to dance, madam…"

She would be a fool and downright disrespectful to deny an emperor's request to dance. She bowed her head lightly as she carefully took his hand. "Abirose, and it would be my pleasure."

As they danced, she found the man leading. He was exceptionally fluid in each movement right along with her keeping pace. Not a single foot was out of step. It was a form of a waltz, bringing the two almost pressed into each other. He had one arm under her own and a hand on her waist towards her back- her own hand resting on his right shoulder. He carefully held the white-gloved hand he had taken out as they spun through the crowd. She looked up at the face of the man she shared this moment with. God, how he and that wanderer looked so similar yet seemed so opposite of each other.

"Would you care to tell me why you're sharing the throne," she asked as they strode across the main hall. Before he could answer, he allowed her to spin, raising a hand and releasing his hold on her.

"It's really for my brother's sake… We're to rule as one unit: I take care of all things mechanical and social, he takes care of all things political and magical. It lessens the burden so there's more room to improve the Empire," he answered simply, focusing on each minute gesture they made to the music.

It had been so long since he had formally learned to dance. What dancing skills he had was an amalgamation of ancient dance lessons and what he gained from fighting. Thank goodness he had been taught in both of those. His life would have been so much more difficult to manage. He wouldn’t be there, dancing with the doubtful but beautiful acting Lady of Eperlan. He wouldn’t be able to aid his younger brother.

"'For your brother'…," she gasped. She felt a pang of guilt when she stole a glance at Marcassin as she parted momentarily from him. He seemed to be socializing happily with the other Sages, Rashaad and Kuhlan. Perhaps he wasn't as irresponsible as she first perceived. To take on such a role after being away, being free from high society seemed like such a large sacrifice to her. "You must really care for him, then,” she concluded as they met again.

"That I do." He smiled proudly as they continued to move across the dance floor, various couples moving aside for them. The new emperor's hold was strong but gentle as he guided their progress- something that the Lady of Eperlan didn't quite expect. Abirose could feel the envious eyes of other noblewomen and even a few noblemen on them, causing her to lean closer to her partner unconsciously, her head lowered and almost directly under his. Working as a dealer was one thing, being eyed enviously by people eager to join a king on the throne was another and that hungry look in their eyes frightened Abbie more than any dark creature.

To him, his movement was constricted because of how close she had drawn. He had never danced this close with a stranger but considered it rude to simply drop her. He exhaled nervously. He moved as carefully as he could to the music. He also took great care not to step on her feet- a task much harder than it seemed. "Miss Abirose, I can compensate, but it's harder to dance like this," Gascon warned, still keeping time to the music.

The covering Lady noticed her blunder and attempted to distance herself, faltering, almost falling. She was spared from a disgraceful scene as a quick arm reflexively caught her- the same reflexes that had been honed by years of thieving, fighting, and surviving. He pulled her back to the same distance she had been before. What crowd that wasn't dancing clapped, not knowing it was an accident. His grip on her tightened slightly for fear of a repeat.

"I can work with it, don't worry," he assured her. "Just go with the flow. We're almost done." He smirked, feeling the heat of her face going red against his neck. "It's alright… This must be your first formal dance, hmm? Believe it or not, I've never danced all too much either," he confided quietly, receiving a slight nod.

She could hear his heart beat. It was loud and racing- the recent near accident and the exhilaration of dancing provoking it. It started to steady, matching her slowly returning ease. Was it her own heartbeat she was hearing or his? She sighed in defeat as she went back to matching his movement. There was something inherently comforting about how carefully he had caught her.

The song was nearing the final score- the big finish. This was quite an interesting dance, he noticed. "This is all improvisation… On my signal, spin away from me, alright," he instructed. It was a shame. He almost felt sad that it had to end- he wondered what the future held had it gone on.

No… It was too soon. She had just gotten comfortable again. If she didn’t… How would that look, her failing in front of a crowd, in front of a newly crowned emperor? She would never live it down. She carefully, subtly nodded. "Right," Abirose breathed into Gascon's chest.

"Now," he abruptly, almost harshly signaled, throwing her away from him, his left arm that held her own extended towards her after letting it go. He watched as she spun, keeping her form tight but energetic. She had grace, that was for sure. As the music ended she stylishly kicked her right foot out to stop her momentum, thrusting her arms out to her side with her palms down and her hands daintily spread. Their improvised finish received a decent amount of applause- even from the eldest emperor himself.

The two met again at the side of the room. Gascon smiled at the lady he had just danced with, the witch in noblewoman's clothes he had just met that night. "Quite a dance… You're a natural, Lady Abirose," he complimented.

"You never answered my previous question…," she reminded, sipping water from a glass she picked up from a servant.

For a moment, the prince seemed unsure, almost pensive. The face he made reminded the Lady in training of the confused look Swaine made at his cards from time to time. "Oh… Yes. That," he recalled the issue of addressing his public. "My plan is to get all the information I can get from an area and fix whatever I can there. I've even got the best informant lined up for it," he answered promptly, remembering her question.

"And how is that any different from your brother? Doesn't he have informants," she pointedly asked before sipping more water.

"Yes, but this one's so good, you'd think I was there… It's almost frightening," he corrected, masking his identity. In truth, he'd be the one going and getting all the intel but not as Gascon. He'd go as the vagrant thief wandering the streets of the empire.

"When you become a full-fledged Lady of a land, you'll be coming by to meet me again," he pondered, a hand on his chin. He caught the confused expression on her face and removed his hand, a reassuring smile on his face. “Your father, Lord Evren, would have been here in your stead. I took a preemptive look at the original guest list.” He chuckled and tilted his head, maintaining his cheery demeanor. "How is he, anyway. I've heard he's been ill?"

"Very. Though, for once, I'm rather glad I got to experience this," she sheepishly admitted as she absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair. "As a 'Lady in training', as I call it, I don't always get to just go out and dance with noblemen. Especially noblemen with skills like yours, your majesty." She looked out to the floor where people were dancing once again. "To be honest, I hardly get out at all unless my province needs me."

Gascon frowned, pitying her. "It's a shame you don't," he said. He allowed a small smirk. "Might I offer you some advice? Try doing things your own way- don't limit yourself to what others tell you or you'll never be your own person." He watched as her head whipped back to face him, surprise in her eyes. Perhaps she was Abbie… Until he was sure of it, he wouldn’t press her ladyship.

No, it was just coincidence, right? This man was not the lowly wanderer. Swaine could never be a king. As her face fell in slight disappointment, she sighed. As was custom, new Lords and Ladies were required to meet with the Emperor to discuss plans for their section of the Empire. At least Eperlan would get the help it needed. She gave a firm nod. "I'll see you, then... Well, if my father should become unable to manage the province, that is."

He beamed at her. "Then I look forward to a bright future for Eperlan and its people." Before leaving her alone with a gracious bow as the next song started, he added, "And thank you for the wonderful dance, my lady."

 


	4. Clicking Into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I only own what original characters I have and the character traits I have added to the blackjack dealer. I don't own anything else. You heard me. I own nothing. Now I will proceed to sit in a corner with Swaine to convince you.

"Abbie? Hey, are you in there," Swaine called impatiently. Something seemed off about her particularly today. She seemed to space out when it was her turn to play. This left for moments on end of the thief waiting for her. "Hey, are you alright," he finally asked as he reached across the counter and shook her gently.

She jumped and stared wide-eyed at him. She quickly brushed his hand off of her shoulder. "You shouldn't touch the staff, Swaine," she chastised, taking a card. She threw her array down on the counter in defeat. "I let you win that one…," she growled, looking away from the smirking vagrant.

"Sure, you did. And I'm sure that you seem out of it more than normal. What's the matter," he asked out of concern despite his victorious but cheeky smile. As he watched, her shuffle the stack of cards in preparation for another round he noticed her usual competitive but cheeky air wasn't about her. She seemed kind of lost, even. Whatever it was, she remained silent as their next game began.

"C'mon, you can tell me. Promise I won't tell," he bargained comfortingly, leaning over the counter. He watched her body language and studied her face. Getting no clue as what could bother the witch of blackjack, he decided on what to do with his cards.

Her mind was racing back to several different memories all almost at once. The memory of the first time she met Swaine- he had been with a couple of kids and a fairy- came back to her a lot since her encounter with Emperor Gascon.

There was the issue of her father's health as well as her land falling apart bit by bit. Her people were starving. The place was desolate. The mines weren't yielding nearly enough. Everything seemed to be crumbling and there was nothing she could do. She had looked at every solution within the realm of Eperlan.

Then there was that dance with that strangely familiar ruler. He didn't look too handsome. Whatever he had been doing all that time definitely didn't help his facial features. Despite that, she found herself reminded of the capable way he led their dance, the hidden qualities of a new but suspect royal.

There were so many things that they shared that she could almost say the man playing blackjack in front of her was that same mysterious emperor. Then there was the attitude, the dress, and the way the thief carried himself. His features were very similar but his personality lined up about as well as derailed minecart.

She shook her head, deciding to let the mystery drop. No one outside noble birth or the great sages had seen him. Surprisingly, for an emperor that wanted to be involved with his people, the crowning was a rather private affair. Why would either of them even know what the man looked like? This was the double-edged sword of living a secretive life just to escape. "Forget it. So, how have you been?"

"Oh, you know. Work is hell," he replied as he placed his hand of cards down. "I've been very busy lately. This job has me going all over the place," he confided. To be honest, his role as emperor really did when he had the time to get out and look around. Many of the major towns were in quite the fine standing. Then… Then there were those who had faced neglect due to being so distant from Hamelin and the major thoroughfares of trade routes. Either that or the train and minecarts had been cut off due to the neglect of the system.

That was something he could not abide by. That was something he sought to fix. He shook his head and smiled tiredly up at her. "I'm glad I can occasionally come by, at least." He let out a distressed groan as he watched her win this round. "But could you not be so brutal?"

"Aww, and where's the fun in that," she wined as she reshuffled the cards. She watched him glare out of slight annoyance. He never really got too angry at it, she noticed. All the complaining was just good-natured banter.

"I guess you have a point…" Recalling how lost she looked beforehand he frowned. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead before looking up. His brown eyes seemed soft with genuine concern. "It really isn't like you to space out, though."

Picking up on what he was referring to, she looked down. She didn't shuffle their cards out. "Well… I… My father hasn't been feeling well lately and I've been trying to plan how I'm going to go on with things if he passes on. His health has never been good." She sighed forlornly. "On top of that, I'm worried about my town. Everything seems so bleak. I'm surprised anyone gets any food with how little we trade, now." She looked down, closing her eyes. Eventually shaking her head, she began to disperse the cards. "My home might just cease to exist… And so, will I," she mumbled with downcast eyes.

Were things really that bad for her? He looked up at her now pained face. She's from Eperlan… right, he recalled from one of their prior conversations. The thief took the opportunity to take one of her hands as she began to withdraw them from his side of the table. She almost snatched the hand he held out of his grip if it weren't for how tenderly he held it. "You won't disappear. Things will turn up, you'll see."

"Oh, will they? How would you know," she snapped as she looked at Swaine's calm and confident face.

"We're both stubborn sorts. I don't think you'd go down without a fight," he complimented, smiling up at Abbie. "Besides, I've heard that that Gascon fellow's going to be looking into things. Maybe he'll send help your way." He let go of her hand, hoping to have helped her to some degree. He figured he'd be hitting two birds with one stone there- a certain Lady who Marcassin had fallen out of favor with lived there as well.

She shook her head, releasing a small, sad chuckle. "Perhaps…," she agreed disbelievingly. "Perhaps…"  


~*~*~

_"Dear Lady Abirose of Eperlan,"_ a letter had read, delivered by a very well taken care of greater naiad. The lady in training hadn't expected to see such a cheerful familiar there upon returning from a long day of managing her section of the kingdom. She didn't know how it got there at all. Obviously, the little nymph belonged to someone.

_"I trust this letter has found you. I've heard from my most trusted informant that your land hasn't been doing so well. Under the suspicion that it's a matter of broken hearts left over from the Dark Djinn, I've consulted my brother about this, confirming it. I apologize for the lack of care on his behalf. Please, if you'd allow him to look into it, I'm sure you'll find your peoples' spirits quite renewed. I shall send my informant out to check on the land shortly after. Signed, his majesty, Emperor Gascon."_

She shook her head at the letter, gripping it. Did it take having his brother to fix this mess? What kind of ruler was Prince Marcassin, anyway? She paced back and forth, the little jellyfish-like nymph watching her. She glared at it and shooed it away. "Go back to your high and mighty master, already!" It looked down for a moment then back up at the paper she held. A small tendril lifted itself to point at the paper.

She looked back down at the paper. There, under the ruler's signature was a post-script message, _"I quite enjoyed our dance- should you wish to attend any royal parties, I'd be happy to have you."_ She found herself standing still, wordless. Was that his attempt at a pass at her or was that a friendly invitation to someone he liked the company of? She really couldn't tell. When she finally looked up, the naiad had left her alone with her thoughts.

She sat at the vanity in her room, reading the letter over. She pulled out a piece of paper and began to write back.

 _"Dear Emperor Gascon of Hamelin, in response to your letter, I have decided that I_ will _allow Prince Marcassin to fix his mess. He hasn't done much to impress me or my family since he's recovered. I wonder how long it would have taken him to realize our state. Honestly, you might just be the saving grace of small lands such as Eperlan. Signed, Lady Abirose."_

Her hand stopped just above the inkwell. She looked back at the original letter, deciding whether she should respond to his invitation. She nodded and began to write again. _"P.S.: While I am honored, your grace, I hardly have time to enjoy such frivolities. Perhaps we'll meet again some other time,"_ she lamented, thinking back on the conversation they had after the waltz. "I'm sorry… But it's getting hard to keep up with the land and the casino. You'll just have to wait, your majesty," she muttered as she dried the quill and put up the inkwell. She looked regretfully at the note and called on Whistle, the kill-o'-the-wisp. Tying the note to the scarf, she sent the wisp out to Hamelin.  


~*~*~

He returned to the casino once again. Again, to the blackjack table he went. Collapsing onto the stool with his head hitting the counter, he glanced up at a cheerful Abbie. "Good morning, Abbie…," he moaned jokingly as he took note of the time.

"What on earth are you doing, Swaine? If you're that tired, then why are you here," she asked him with her hands on her hips. She looked down at her regular. She shook her head when he grumbled something under his breath. What was she going to do with this wanderer, she wondered? Something about his dedication to the game of blackjack warmed her heart. He wasn't always there, but for some reason when he found the time he made a point to stop by and play a few rounds even if he was dead tired- like now. "You aren't going to be able to function at your job at this rate."

He slowly raised his head to sleepily smile at her. "C'mon, Abbie. You know me better than that. Don't you remember all those times I told you about walking day and night…? Fighting monsters… Helping two kids and a _fairy_ save the world…? Twice…?" His tiredness allowed for a false drunken lilt in his voice. He unconsciously swayed back and forth.

"I remember you passing out on the counter and having the Pit Boss put you up in the R.I.P. Room so you could get some sleep. You're lucky you're friends with that kid or we'd be forced to throw you out, Swaine," she exposed as she observed his sleep-deprived behavior. "It's looking that way again, it seems." She eyed him with a cheeky smirk. "Aren't you a bit old to be staying up at odd hours of the night?"

A thud on the counter and a begrudged groan was his reply. He had wrapped his head in his arms. She saw him shake it with limited movement and heard a chuckle. "…Swaine," she prodded after a moment of silence. She leaned over the counter and shook him.

The thief looked up slowly, this time keeping his head on the gambling table. He couldn't help but grin at the level of concern Abbie took compared to other customers. If it were anyone else, they'd be hauled out on the spot. A sleeping customer won't make the casino money. One of the perks of befriending the dealer, he wagered, was having someone to look out for your health. "I'm sorry, Abbie… If you could put me up in the room," he requested. "After all this trouble to get here, and I couldn't play a single round of blackjack," he regretfully reflected. Playing the card game, especially with a real blackjack fiend like Abbie, was one of the things he really enjoyed. A shame it was for it to be spoiled from overworking himself as both Swaine and Gascon that day. The city streets of Hamelin were going to be a lot quieter thanks to a certain thief and his silver tongue.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair as she looked warmly down at an exhausted Swaine. "Sure…," she allowed, smiling. "It's really no problem. You're always welcome here, Swaine."

When she wrapped up her shift, she went to check on the vagrant. As usual, he had fled the casino. More than likely he had snuck off when she wasn't looking. She shook her head before beginning to turn from the room. A glint caught her eye and she turned back to see the head of an instrument- a mandolin. She didn't remember seeing it in the R.I.P. Room. She walked up to it and took note of the design, admiring the gold finish that faded into a chestnut brown with gold ancient creatures along the edges. Where did it come from, she wondered? Is it Swaine's…? Does he own a mandolin? Curious, she picked it up and took it back to the blackjack table. She kept it underneath the counter so she could question the suspect owner.

  


~*~*~

When she returned home, tired from a long night at work, she found that same little jellyfish-like creature waiting patiently in her room. Its face lit up upon seeing her and flew towards her with unprecedented speed. It held up a note with its tendrils, no doubt from Gascon.

She opened it, sifting through its contents. _"Dear Lady Abirose, Thank you for your permission. Honestly, I must ask that you set aside your bitter grudge against Marcassin. He_ has _tried his best to repair damages to the Empire, but these repairs do take time. On his behalf, I apologize for the delay. Please, give him a chance, will you? He has nothing but goodwill towards his people. On another note, while I'm flattered by your praise, I'm hardly anything magnanimous. Thank you for your trust. Signed, Emperor Gascon."_

His request sat heavily on her mind. She found it hard to give up her anger towards the young sage. Then again… if Gascon were as caring and responsible as he admitted despite her previous assumption, perhaps she had the wrong idea about his younger brother as well. It was possible that Prince Marcassin had made arrangements for the provinces in the outer rims of the kingdom to be looked after, to be inspected and repaired. All manner of things could have delayed the capitol's response to their plight- especially after that strange incident with the white ash hitting them.

She looked up and noticed that the little nymph was still eagerly waiting. She turned the paper over. _"P.S.: You'll find that you may have more time with everything running right. I will leave the offer extended if you so choose."_ She blinked and re-read the script. Generally, when it came to the life of a lady, any legal or regal affair was forced upon her. Whatever it was, was mandatory. She made decisions, yes, but that was rare in her little land of Eperlan as the people were so self-sufficient to not need her aid. There were even times she wondered if she was doing enough, whether they even needed her. She didn't have the luxury of just saying, "no." At least, that's what she thought.

And here was his majesty, the highest power in most of Autumnia only equal to the great sage, giving her the opportunity to make her own decision. For once, even if it was someone of authority, she was being treated like a regular person rather than a future governing Lady. She was given a sense of independence she could only gain as Abbie the blackjack dealer.

 _"Dear Emperor Gascon,"_ she wrote, sitting down at her desk. _"After some thought, I will try my best to give the Great Sage of Hamelin the benefit of the doubt. It's only fair on my part. I admit I had my doubts about you, as well. After meeting you at the coronation… You weren't anything like what I was expecting. You seemed capable and devoted to your cause, your majesty. I wonder how you can be so humble. You hold so much power. To allow me, a mere 'Lady in training' to make a decision of appearance shows great restraint and humility, I hope you know. Signed, Lady Abirose."_ As before, she took the note and tied it to Whistle's scarf-like appendage and sent it off to the Porcine Palace.  


~*~*~

The emperor thief pored over blueprints submitted for approval by the engineering division. They were designs for a new type of mining machine to expand the ever-growing Pig Iron Empire's capitol. Besides regular meetings and meetings with the council, this was what filled his schedule- maintenance of the immediate area as well as any other provinces that needed his aid. Those provinces, he found more often than not, were the ones on the outer edge of the Empire. Often, council meetings were held in response to the new king's sudden interest in the dregs of the Empire. Sir Gligan never made it easy during those meetings, claiming that those provinces were dying, that they'd vanish and, since many of them were small, would be more hassle and expense than whatever they'd yield.

Luckily, everyone tended to ignore these claims. The old fool, outnumbered, was often forced to comply with Gascon's and Marcassin's plans for their beloved kingdom. He had made up his mind not to let anyone get in the way of keeping the Empire in good standing. No matter the name he took, no matter the identity, his tenacity never ceased.

He was yanked from his thoughts as a familiar small assassin popped up from out of the shadows. It delivered its owner's note eagerly. He considered Lady Abirose to have good taste in familiars when he finally realized what it was when he first encountered it. At first, he thought it was a wondering beast and drew his gun, but, as it happened, it manipulated its scarf so it could present the note.

He untied the note from the wisp's appendage and gave it a piece of chocolate he had on hand for its trouble. He smirked as he read her reply. "Finally seeing sense, is she?" He frowned when he read the second half of the response. He shook his head solemnly. "Honestly, Abbie-," he caught himself, thinking about the witch in the casino. "Abbie… 'Abirose'…," he thought aloud, playing back the memory of when he first met the Lady of Eperlan, then piecing together all he knew about her and his favorite blackjack dealer.

Gripping the note with his right hand, he rubbed his face with the other. She has to be… Oh, Abbie… What have you been doing? He looked down at the note. This wasn't a coincidence. He swiftly swiped a piece of paper from a stack on the desk behind the magenta throne. Now that I've figured her out, I should return the favor, shall I, he mused. It was only fair to her. At least she would be able to confide in someone who also led an alternate life. If anything, they could both take comfort in mutual secrecy.

As he was about to reach for the quill, he paused. What if I'm wrong…, he worried. His instincts told him to stop, that it was too early to reveal his true role to anyone but his own brother. What if I'm about to make a huge mistake and… and she isn't who I think she is?

"I shall leave it as it is, then. Forgive me… Lady Abirose…," he said to the paper before replacing it with its brethren. "And, if you are also her, forgive me, _Abbie_. Our little conversation will have to be put on hold." He smiled sadly at the note discarded on the desk.  


~*~*~

Despite his newfound suspicion, he found himself venturing into the casino to play blackjack. As usual, he sat at the counter only to find an over-exuberant Abbie. "Swaine," she cheered with a large grin. She shuffled the cards and put them to the side.

Swaine flashed a simple smile. She definitely appeared livelier that day. "Something happened," he questioned. He reflexively leaned back when she slammed her hands on the countertop as she leaned toward him.

"You wouldn't believe it! My hometown literally transformed overnight! People were still running around doing who knows what. People I haven't seen in ages even said 'hello' to me! Signs were being put up, vendors were selling wares again… It was like a dream come true." She leaned closer to the ragged man, somehow grinning even wider. "You were right! Things really did turn out for the better!" Giggling, she withdrew and recomposed herself.

She glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "Though, I guess thanks should go to our rulers, though. Man, I had my doubts at first, but those two brothers really seem to be turning things around for other lands." She giggled and shook her head with a smile, pushing away her distracted thoughts. Placing a hand on her hips, she looked at Swaine from the side. "So, what can I do for you, today, Swaine? A game of blackjack? Or maybe a mandolin?"

The vagrant spat the sip of drink away from the counter upon hearing the word, "mandolin". He took a black paper towel from a nearby holder and cleaned himself up. Placing the cup of water down on the counter, he swiftly looked at Abbie in shock. "M-mandolin? Wait, you mean- Did you-," he sputtered. He had wondered where that relic had gotten off to.

"So, you _are_ the owner. Guess I'm the official lost and found of all things _Swaine_ ," she joked as she watched him scowl at her. "First, two scrolls of truth and now a priceless instrument. What are we going to do with you?" She shrugged holding her hands out. "I mean… I guess I could keep it. It's really pretty."

"Well, I was going to ask the Pit Boss if I could play a song or something, you know as payment for all the good fun I've had at his casino, but now I'm not so sure," he bit as his glare got worse. "Maybe I'll tell him his employee is holding onto a customer's personal property, shall I," he threatened, earning an equally fierce look from the dealer.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, leaning toward him. She crossed her arms and turned away from him with closed eyes. "Besides, dealers are allowed to collect valuables and leave them under the counters until the owner comes back." She turned and pointed at the vagrant. "So, it wouldn't work."

It was his turn to lean over the blackjack table. "Oh, but I've got quite the silver tongue. How do you think I became so good a thief? Wasn't my good looks, I tell you," he bragged with a coy smirk. "Now, miss Abbie, would you please give me my mandolin," he asked politely.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on him. "Only if you play a song."

He leaned back again, eyes wide. "A song?! Are you taking the mi-," he began to protest.

"Ah, ah, ah… A song on my break and for all my trouble, two hundred hands of blackjack," she added with a finger wag.

He scowled at her again. "I don't think you can haggle with a man's property." Even if it wasn't right by any means, he actually admired her spirit as Abbie. There seemed to be a competitive and independent streak a mile wide when she was in the casino. Perhaps this is what she's like without the title of Lady hanging over her head, he mused. I think I like this Abirose a lot more, honestly.

"I can and I will," she argued. "Besides what's up with that look, Swaine? You look… amused." The thief was resting his head in his palm in pleasant thought, it seemed. He seemed to be admiring something, considering the smirk on his face. It took a moment for her to connect the dots. "Oh, geez. Stay focused, you." She dished out cards on her end, blushing. Any other lowlife would have caused her to cringe, but this one was a different sort. Swaine was the kind of guy that you couldn't judge just by looking at him, she quickly found. He was the kind who had his fair share of hidden qualities under his rough exterior. He looked like a foul-tempered wretch, but he was truly a man of kindness and honesty- when he wasn't acting as a thief, that was. All of this, just by simple conversation and playing blackjack with the man.

Seeing the cards, he snapped out of his infatuated daze. "Hey, what about the instrument? My mandolin," he reminded harshly. What gentle smile he had earlier had been replaced by an adamant frown as he removed his elbow.

"Fine… fine. I'll give it back," she groaned as she reached under the counter. She handed the instrument to Swaine who took a moment to carefully look it over. He ran his hands down the chords, analyzing them by touch.

Nodding, he looked up at her with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Abbie. I don't know how I could have lost this. It's actually very dear to me," he informed, holding it close to his chest. He frowned, looking down at the instrument, gripping it tighter. "Honestly… How did I lose track of you," he asked the object.

"Where'd you get it," the dealer asked as she handed out his cards. "Doesn't look like something you'd pick out. Never pegged you for a musician."

He waved dismissively as he picked up the cards after looping the instrument behind his back. "I'm not much of one. Never took the time to actually learn." He leaned on the table a little. "Play by ear, kind of guy, you know," he nonchalantly revealed as he eyed his hand. He sighed, looking up from the selection. "As for the other question, I'll save that for your break." He smirked when he heard her groan and complain.

The hours passed as they played their game. They chatted about small things, mostly. The coming change of the seasons, the types of foods they looked forward to were often a hot topic. Eventually, it shifted to "dancing" of all things.

"Have you ever danced, before," she wondered as they began to discuss various holiday festivities.

Swaine took a moment to think. His movements in battle were very dance-like, he recalled. That was part of him just showing off. He remembered being taught how to dance as Prince Gascon, but only vaguely. It didn't surprise him that his muscle memory had recalled some of those moves at the coronation ceremony, however. "I have… A little," he admitted with a smirk.

"Oh! Perhaps we should dance sometime," she cheered. "Don't worry, I won't judge… Aaaand b-b-blackjack," she gloated, slamming down her cards.

The thief chuckled, amused. Going on the assumption that Abbie was Abirose, they technically had danced before. If he recalled correctly, he actually led their waltz. It was one of the few times he could safely call her clumsy. He waved to the side, gesturing for another round. "We should. I think it'd be fun." He smiled fondly at his newest selection.

Her break came and the two of them wandered out to the clearing at the top of the trail. It wasn't exactly a meadow, but the moon always showed the brightest there, illuminating the giant gravestone. The jack-o-lanterns on poles provided decent light when the moon was new. All of which made for an eerie but beautiful sight for the two.

The man took a seat on a raised bit of land. He stretched out a leg, bending the other as he got himself comfortable with the instrument. "I'm warning you, Abbie. I haven't played in a while." He strummed a couple of notes, searching for the right sound.

The witch was sitting in front of him, eating a burger for her dinner. She swallowed. "That doesn't matter. I'm curious, all the same," she encouraged. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. "You still didn't tell me where you got the instrument."

The vagrant sighed, stopping his warm up briefly. "My late father gave to me when I was around seven. He wanted me to have all the chances I could have, even in a world where magic and machinery are so highly prized," he admitted, looking back down at the instrument. "You know how it is. It's up to a man to be able to stand on his own two feet, even if he has to fight for it. That's the Hamelin way…"

For a moment, there was silence. She reached over and patted his shoulder, drawing his attention. "He sounds like he was a great man."

Swaine sighed, thinking about the last words he ever heard from his father. The last words the lost prince had hoped his father had heard him admit. "Yeah… I guess he was…" Would he be proud, now, if he saw me, he thought as he readjusted his hold on the mandolin. He shook his head and composed a smile, pushing away those thoughts. "Enough of that, dear Abbie. How about that song, eh?"

She swallowed another bite. She smiled gleefully at the ragged man in front of her. "Show me what you've got." She gave a hearty thumbs up.

He began to play a sad, soft tune. His voice, though not the best, lilted and carried each line with care, _"I'll be back, just you wait and see. I'll return, just believe in me. I'll come back home, weary and changed from the long roads I roam. When I return, I'll look differently. Don't you fret, it'll still be me. I'll back, just you wait and see. I'll return, just believe in me…"_ He continued his tune and let his playing carry himself away as he closed his eyes.

While his voice wasn't too grand, his playing was almost immaculate to the witch. For a second she forgot that he had no formal training on that thing. Every note was practiced and purposeful. Every note had some sort of hidden meaning behind it. As usual, the supposedly simple Swaine displayed yet another talent of his.

Something about his playing resonated with her. She couldn't place why, though. Perhaps it was the way he sang his song- the sincerity behind the lyrics. It was something personal, this song. Did he create it himself, she wondered.

He finished the tune and let the last note drift into the darkness of the eerie trail. He opened his eyes and looked up at Abbie. He wasn't expecting applause and he didn't get any. Instead, the blackjack dealer seemed lost in a trance. "Okay, I can't be that good." He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at her.

Noticing a sudden lack of music, she finally snapped out of it. "I… um… Could you play another," she requested. She took another bite of her burger.

"A-another," he stammered, leaning back. "C'mon, that wasn't even my best song."

"Oh, shut up. Sure it was, Swaine! I bet you came up with it for your brother, right," she observed, remembering how precise and passionate he played. He had seemed entirely at peace with himself.

"I did. Still, it's one of the first songs I've ever written. I'm surprised I can even remember the finger placement it's been so long. Either way… It's nothing special," he played down.

"Of course it is. First an inventor, now a musician… Are you an artist, too?" She looked up at the purple sky in thought. "You're a thief, so would that make you a _con-artist_?"

Swaine rolled his eyes. "Making bad jokes, now, are we?" He finally conceded and sighed. "Fine, if you want more of my ridiculous mandolin playing, you'll have to pay," he haggled, holding up a hand to her.

"Pay? Aw, really, Swaine," she whined, sticking her bottom lip out. "Okay, name your price, Mr. Thief."

"Sing the next song," he ordered, smiling.

She eyed him suspiciously. "And…?" What was the catch? There had to be more to it than that.

"That's all. I just need a song. Name one." He watched as her cheeks turned red as she slowly took what was probably the third from the last bite of her meal.

"I... I've never been asked to sing before… I mean. I can… but…," she said after swallowing.

"I'm sure you'll sound fine. Don't worry, I won't judge," he threw back at her, still cheekily smirking.

She exhaled heavily and nodded before hastily shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. She pulled out a small flask full of water and took a swig to moisten her throat. She sat in thought, thinking about the songs she knew. She thought of an old lullaby her father had sung her and decided on that one. She mentioned her song of choice and to her surprise, the vagrant knew it.

He adjusted his mandolin, preparing to play another song. "Ready," he asked, casting a gentle smile at her.

She nodded and the song began. At first, she was nervous. What if she messed up? Then again, it wasn't like the thief to instantly switch his tune about someone over something so fickle as their singing ability. She forgot about all this when she heard the notes cueing her time. Like Swaine, she too got carried away by her song.

The harmony and bliss intensified. There was something about performing with another person that increased the beauty of what was supposed to be a simple lullaby. They locked eyes with each other and smiled happily, contently. She found herself enthralled by his skill on the mandolin, and he with the range and beauty of her voice.

It felt like gears and parts of a larger machine clicking into place. When the song was over, the two looked away from each other, both attempting to conceal a blush.

Swaine was the first to speak, rubbing the back of his head. "You- ah… You've got a really great voice," he complimented shyly.

She finally looked back at the thief and nodded. "Th-thank you…," she breathed shakily, holding a hand to her chest.

When she removed her hand, her familiar, Whistle, popped out. It looked up angrily at her. She looked down in shock at it. "Oh, my! Is that really the time? I've got to get back to the casino," she yelped.

Swaine stared curiously at the wisp. No doubt about it, now. She had to be. It looked just like the one who delivered letters to him. Perhaps he'd make a point of it later.

Whistle and the musician watched as she scrambled to her feet and began to trot off. It turned to look at Swaine for a moment, recognizing the emperor. The man raised a single finger to his lips and the familiar received the message loud and clear. It nodded and disappeared into the shadows.  


~*~*~

When he returned the next time to the casino, he was shocked to find Abbie gone. He stared at the spot she usually stood, shuffling cards and sometimes even playing blackjack with herself when it was slow- a trick managed by her sometimes adding an extra card to the side.

But… the witch was nowhere to be found. He walked over to the Pit Boss and asked him, "Where's the blackjack witch? Is she out on a break, or something?"

The tall top-hat adorned skeleton gave a rattling shrug. "No, she hasn't come in! It's been this way for almost a month. She hasn't sent word-d-d of what's going on, sir. If you must play, talk to Boris, the b-b-blackjack skeleton." He motioned to the skeleton that usually stood next to her.

He nodded and gave thanks to the owner of the establishment. Swaine walked over to the counter and sat down in front of the finely dressed corpse. "Deal me in, Boris," he requested dully. As he dealt out the hand, he asked the skeleton, "Hey, you work with Abbie, right?"

"Y-yes, sir," the skeleton answered, bones rattling as they do as the undead.

"What happened? She's always been here." He looked at his hand. "Hit." The skeleton gave him another card.

"I wish I knew… One day, she just stopped-d-d coming in. I hope she's alright-t-t," Boris divulged.

He only played a couple of hands at that time. It just wasn't the same without Abbie's competitive flare. He missed the talking they did over a simple game of cards. As he walked away from the Tombstone Trail for what felt like the last time, he looked up at the darkened sky. The emperor thief realized, he didn't go there to play blackjack- the game really never mattered. He went there for the witch's pleasant conversation. She had worked her magic, spoiling the simple game of blackjack for him. He couldn't play another single game of it without missing her company, now.

"Lady Abirose… What happened to you," he asked as he made his way to the machine city of Hamelin.


	5. The Mechanical Sage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Considering this fic, maybe it's good that I shouldn't.

The empire flourished under Gascon and Marcassin's reign. Thanks to a "wandering rogue", rampant crime had all but disappeared. Many of the smaller provinces managed to double in size once their trade increased and their citizens healed. Marcassin made it a priority to handle relations with neighboring lands while the smooth-talking Gascon managed trade within the empire as well as with wandering sea traders.

Even the factories and engineering division churned out more top of the line products and innovations. While the ventilation system still needed work, what improvements, thanks to the older porcine emperor's suggestions, had cleaned up some of the air. Granted, it was still hard to breathe there. The city got pretty claustrophobic, despite its size. It was one of the reasons why Gascon had requested a spacious room for himself- that wasn't always enough, either.

The thief had gotten so used to being outdoors, that during the first few months, he actually got sick from being in Hamelin's enclosed city environment. That was part of why he had gone to the casino so much. The walk there helped keep his system in check. That, and escaping from the busy life of a royal wasn't so bad, either. The walk, the game, the regular chatting… It was all to destress. It was all to keep him from going stir crazy in the mechanical monstrosity he called home.

All of the progress they had made… All of the people he and his brother had helped get back on their feet was kickstarted by one gun being created: the Masterthief's Magnum. That weapon was actually sought after by the head engineer and councilman Elliot because of its unique design and features. The man wagered it could even be used to save lives.

And save, it did, but not in the way Sir Elliot intended. To be honest, Gascon hardly ever used the thing. No, it saved lives by bringing him and his brother closer together, by strengthening his confidence as a prince first then as an emperor. He denied Elliot the weapon, claiming he didn't want more of his crooked invention out on the streets. He didn't want a million copy-cat thieves running around.

Even if he were to hand it off to someone, that someone would be someone he'd trust with his life. Either that, if it ever happened, he'd pass it down as an heirloom to the next in line for the throne. At least, it and its predecessors would hopefully be in safe hands.

The gun was a joint effort by not two but three people: him, Marcassin, and Abbie. While she hadn't been there to put the gun together, she had saved them hours of time hunting down two entirely new of the two items they needed. How fortunate they were that she happened to take a break at that time.

Abbie… He wondered how she was. The last time he ever saw her was during their little music session at the top of the trail. To get fresh air, since he didn't have as much of a reason to go to the Crypt Casino anymore, he took walks into the lands of the Empire. He even visited Eperlan to see if he could spot the witch in disguise. Nothing.

He missed talking to that witch dreadfully. He even wondered if writing to Lady Abirose would ease his worry. He sometimes wondered if she was alive.

He wasn't exactly sure how Gemini was able to find her so easily- the little nymph was only told that the fair Lady lived in Eperlan. Then again, familiars were soldiers of their owner's soul. Perhaps she just had a sense for these kinds of things. Perhaps the same could be said for the tiny assassin that visited him with letters… Perhaps it could tell where someone was just by their connection with their owner.

God, thinking about how familiars knew things gave the man a headache. He found himself holding his hand to his forehead at the desk in his room, covered with blueprints he had been finalizing to submit to the engineering division. They would build it and test it first, obviously. A whole new slew of problems would pop up if they didn't. Even then it would take a week or two to get it out of the workshop and to the factories for mass production. It was up to Gascon himself to deem whether the products should be released to the public or deemed a government secret.

Here he was spacing out over a blackjack dealer in a casino… that was also a future governing power. Only he could manage to have _that_ kind of relationship with someone. It never was simple. He was pulled out of his thoughts when a familiar wisp popped out of the shadows. Its head was low for some reason this time.

"What is it, boy," he inquired out of concern. "Is it Abbie? Did something happen," he prodded as he got up and knelt to its level. He noticed a note on its scarf and took it off then stood at his full height. Whistle hung there listlessly, waiting for Gascon to read its owner's message.

As the emperor read the note, it all became clear to him. He wondered why he didn't realize it sooner. He looked back at his desk when he finished. He heaved a heavy breath before looking back at the small assassin who remained. Usually, Whistle would have disappeared, but considering the contents of the letter, it was understandable that it would hang about.

"So… She's now a full-fledged governing Lady…," he breathed, taking in the reality of it all. He saw the familiar look up at him and nod. "I want to go to her, to help her… Urgh…" He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He recalled his own past experiences. Everything was so confused. He couldn't think straight, then.

Now, someone he had grown close to, who had been a source of comfort for him, who had helped him was going through the same. He held up the tear-stained note, reading it over again. What could he do in a situation like this? In what way could he be there for her?

There was a knock on the door and the wisp faded quickly into the shadows. The emperor quickly hid the note under the papers. He turned to the pink doors and shouted, "Come in."

It was his brother, Marcassin, who opened them. "Are you almost ready, brother? The Royal Procession is about to begin," he reminded him.

"Roy- Right, I forgot," Gascon recalled quickly, flustered by the sudden event. "J-just a moment, Marcassin." Of course, today would be the day the public would see their new ruler. Today would be the day they see the lauded Mechanical Sage of Hamelin- a title only given to him for his ability to come up with unique designs and inventions.

As much as he wanted to see Abbie, to comfort her, to return the favor of being a good source to vent off to, he had his own obligations to the throne. He recalled this as he reached for a drawer containing flesh-toned makeup to cover up the bags under his eyes. The emperor had to be the picture of good health, after all. If it weren't for the vainness of society, he griped in his mind, there wouldn't be a need.

The younger ruler nodded and turned to leave. "Right, brother. I shall see you at the palace entrance." He hesitated and looked back. "Are you alright? You seem a little more stressed than usual."

He feigned a smile as he looked back at his younger brother. He shouldn't have to worry about his problems, he reasoned. "I'm fine. Don't worry." He waved him away with a makeup brush.

"Alright. Do be gentle with that. Perhaps I should call a servant," the younger prince suggested. He never recalled his elder brother really using makeup. It was quite odd to see, really. Did he know how?

The former thief had raised a mirror from behind his work desk, effectively turning it into a mock vanity. Generally, he had little need of the thing. He seemed to lean forward, carefully applying concealer to his face. "I have it, alright? I'm no artist, but give me some credit," he said as he turned on the cushioned stool to face Marcassin. He had already managed to cover the bags on the right eye. "As it happens, I actually paid attention to the royal stylist before the coronation. It really isn't that difficult."

The younger brother nodded. "I shall be seeing you then, Gascon." He turned away and closed the doors behind him. There was something bothering him, he was sure. Knowing Gascon, it was best not to pry. When he opened up, if he decided to at all, he'd do it when the time was right. The sage walked to the palace entrance to wait on his brother.

Gascon took a moment to look at his reflection. His handiwork had paid off to some degree. Combined with his hair being brushed daily by the royal hairdresser (Marcassin's idea, not his), he looked completely different from the thief that perused the streets of Hamelin from time to time. He found it hard to believe.

It was no wonder Abbie never connected the dots, he realized. There were just enough differences to throw her off. His eyes still looked tired to some extent, but the crowd would just assume it was from all the hard work he'd been doing. The man in the mirror, the man they would see, would be the man he wanted them to believe was Gascon. They would never know the thief.

The time finally came. It was time the Mechanical Sage of Hamelin showed himself. The Sage of machinery, not magic. It was a title he could only claim. While conventionally, sages had to wield some considerable magic power- as in real magic- his inventions and ideas alone had revolutionized several systems in Hamelin in the short time he had come to power. Though… some credit had to be given to Marcassin, as quickly as the youngest would deny it.

To be called a sage, despite not truly being one, was an honor. He stepped onto the ceremonial float with his brother at his side. They smiled proudly at each other as the vehicle lurched to life. Behind them were several of the new inventions the engineering division had rolled out. Some of the new technology had been merely improved upon by the older emperor. Others were either wholly Gascon's and Marcassin's designs or the work of the famed workshops of Hamelin.

As they rolled through the streets, the people all crowded at the side to see their newest addition to the throne and what the two brothers had been up to outside of keeping the kingdom safe. They were pleased to see, instead of a tyrant pig sitting motionless two proud emperors waving to the sea of excited citizens.

"I think they are quite pleased to see you, brother," Marcassin laughed as he waved back to the eager gathering. He received a snort from the lanky man next to him. "Oh, you don't think so?"

"I was just thinking… They're happier to see you, Marcassin," Gascon replied through the grin he cast at the crowd. He leaned toward his younger brother. "You didn't exactly have much to show the last time if I recall."

"Your appearance was not the picture of royalty, either, Gascon," the young sage retorted quietly.

"Ouch," was all he had to say to that. He went back grinning and waving enthusiastically at the people on the sidelines. They seemed to admire both him and his brother. Kids and adults alike marveled at the pride of the Empire, the innovations they produced. The older emperor was glad, at least, that the people seemed proud to have him rather than disappointed. All of their hard work had paid off.

This procession, he found, had proven something to him no discussion could ever have. To see the joy of the citizens, to see how proud they were of their rulers and the achievements of their city; to see Hamelin standing after all the chaos it had gone through- from fifteen years in the past to the white ash incident- had put an old argument to rest. It was an argument that persisted even after helping to prevent the end of times twice. He could safely say that he had become a man both he and his father could be proud of. Now he had to keep that truth alive.


	6. To Love an Emperor Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Seriously, have you seen this fic? Why would you think I own any rights to Ni No Kuni?

It was, from the start of Gascon's reign, his duty to commune with the governing Lords and Ladies of the lands under the control of the Empire. It helped keep the peace as well as the unity of their kingdom in check. Under circumstances where a new family or heir to the original family took power, it was a tradition for that head of house to meet with the current Emperor when possible.

He had sent word to schedule a meeting that day with Lady Abirose. He had decided to give her space and time- a couple of months to handle her loss. He didn't want to raise any suspicion from the public nor did he wish to cause her any more distress that she had been under. Handling matters such as this was a delicate affair.

He had arranged to meet in his room rather than the throne room- or better put, Marcassin's chambers. It always felt awkward meeting people in there. He sometimes felt he didn't belong there because of its overwhelming history. He _did_ belong but it still wasn't… _him_.

His room was a spacious round expanse situated lower in the castle. While his brother and even some of the servants and guards worried about his opinion of this situation, they found he didn't care. It was a place to sleep, to think, to plan, and to go about life in his mind. Whether his brother got the higher bunking was no concern of his. It was closer to the inner workings of the Porcine Palace- he enjoyed the sound of machines clanging and whirring. It kept him in touch with reality.

His room had no carpet, save for large plush teal rug in the center he often found himself sleeping on. The bed in the corner hardly saw use. What really saw use was the bookshelf cluttered with rolled up blueprints he had drawn up and his work desk/mock vanity. One or two lamps lined the walls, providing him with plenty of light, though his trusty desk lamp was sometimes all he needed.

And off to the side was a sofa, another item that had seen more use than the soft bed in the corner. It even had a small coffee table in front of it, perfect for when he got tired of sitting on the stool to review plans. He wouldn't have minded it much if it didn't cut into his room on the floor where he slept. He found himself yelled at by both his brother and servants alike for that- not that he really cared.

A knock on the door sounded just as he was putting on the last of his makeup. Appearances had to be kept after all. "Just a moment," he requested as he put the supplies up. He got up and straightened his clothing out.

He approached the doors and opened them to find his guest of honor standing patiently in the hall. Her hands were clasped in front of her simple but elegant lacy white dress that measured just past her knees. She slightly bowed and then smiled up at him. "Your majesty," she politely greeted.

He returned the bow as well as the gracious smile. "Lady Abirose. I am pleased that you could make it." He stepped to the side. "Do come in. This is where we'll have our meeting," he instructed as he motioned to the inside of his chamber.

She paused for a moment, curious at the choice. "Your majesty, if I may…," she began, receiving a nod from him to go ahead. "These are your _private_ chambers, yes? Doesn't that seem a little… informal for a meeting such as this one?"

He smirked from his place in the doorway. She had already noticed his lax nature as an emperor, it seemed. "Actually… I hold a lot of meetings in here when my brother isn't around. I prefer to be comfortable and the throne room isn't necessarily one of the places I feel comfortable in," he explained. By this point, he had lost count of the people that he had allowed in his room just to speak with him. Every single one of them had a similar response she had- that it was rather odd how informal he was when it came to meetings.

Abirose had her doubts. She studied the man before her for any sign that he was leading her on. She could see it in his eyes, his sincerity, his honesty. She felt a sense of familiarity emanate from the look on his face. There was something _close_ that eased her mind about trusting Gascon then and there.

Perhaps his resemblance to the thief…?

She heard him mention that he'd arrange for some food for her shortly as she followed him into the room. He closed the doors behind her simply out of a need for professional confidentiality. He motioned to sit when he approached the sofa. She sat on the end facing closest to the door while he swiftly walked over to the bookshelf.

He drew a box of playing cards and shook it at her. "Fancy a game of blackjack?" He smiled at her. "Always a good game to open up over. Marcassin prefers more strategy based games, but I'm all for simplicity," he persuaded.

"You play it? Isn't that a commoner's game?" She tilted her head as she watched him take a seat next to her.

He nodded, smirking at the box. "Yes. Do you?" C'mon, Abbie. You should. There isn't another blackjack dealer alive I've met that can reach your skill.

"Well… Um… I used to play it with my father, Lord Evren all the time," she sadly lamented. She pensively watched as the emperor laid out the cards in front of her.

So that was where she got her skill. "Ah… Yes. The great Lord Evren. I never got the chance to meet him in person," he admitted, taking up his selection. They both dealt their own hands, this time. "From what I recall, he was a great man. The empire won't be the same without him."

She sighed heavily as she drew another card from the deck. "You are correct, it won't. I hope I can fit into his role." She frowned as she looked at her array. "I'm sorry, are we betting on this, your majesty," she inquired, recalling a key component that made the game more entertaining and notorious.

Gascon chuckled. She never missed much, did she? "Well, I don't have anything in the way of monetary value and it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to bet our own clothes- though it is an option…," he thought aloud as he raised an eyebrow at the woman next to him. He shook his head, quickly pushing that idea aside. He thought for a moment as he stared at the cards. Material goods just simply wouldn't do. "Ah! I have it!" He grinned slyly at his guest. "As this is a meeting regarding your plans for Eperlan's future, we could wager knowledge. For instance…" he placed his cards down on the table. "Whoever loses this round has to reveal something about their history- just to break the ice."

She placed her hand down and thought about his proposal. Finally, she nodded, a small smile on her face. "Sounds fine to me." They turned their cards over to find the emperor had won. "Oh w-wow. Not bad," she quietly admitted. She hadn't really expected him to win that first round.

"I do try," he bragged cheekily. He took the cards up and shuffled them into the deck. "So, what is there to tell, Lady Abirose?"

"Well… It's not my history per-se, but it has to do with it. My father was a rather caring man, but he could be stubborn. He was especially stubborn when it came to my upbringing." She sighed, recalling many a lecture from him. "I fear he was worried about how I handled myself. I always did have a knack for getting into trouble. I climbed so many trees and buildings- I don't even know what for. I just loved the thrill of being up high." She rubbed her arm subconsciously. She shook her head. "At any rate, Lord Evren was always busy before his health started to decline. Not a day went by when he didn't try to do what he thought best for everyone in Eperlan." She smiled sadly as she drew her next two cards from the stack.

"I share that sentiment. Up until recently, I've been worried about my own ability to run the kingdom." He glanced up at her, remembering the last letter she sent. "Tell me, will you take the advice I gave you at the coronation," he wondered as he took another card from the pile.

"'Advice'," she asked, trying to figure out his meaning. "You mean about doing things my way? Is that it?" A silent nod was her answer. "But what if… What if my way isn't good enough? What if it's not right?"

"Then make adjustments to it. Is it really that hard to understand," he suggested incredulously. He huffed as he put his cards down. He then turned and smiled at his unconfident guest. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, Lady Abirose." He looked back down at the cards he had laid down on the table. "At any rate, this next bet's going to be what our plans for the empire will be from here, shall we?"

The next hand was his win again. "I swear, you're no amateur, your highness," she quipped with a simple smile. "Well… as it stands, Eperlan's trade has been booming as well as our mining and smelting industry, thanks to your efforts."

"Thanks to mine? Aren't you forgetting you and your people's," he corrected, glancing at Abirose as he collected the cards.

She blushed. "Honestly, I don't feel I've done that much. It wasn't until you and your brother healed the brokenhearted and fixed the rail system that everything turned around… I could only do what I could and that wasn't a lot." She held the cards she took up close to her chest. She shook her head. "That's beside the point. I plan to make Eperlan a booming center of trade and a mining town worthy of the finest factories in Hamelin. If I can do that, the people of Eperlan will be healthy and happy! I'm sure of it!"

That brought a smirk to the emperor's face. Such ambition and care for her fellow man represented that stubborn fire of the blackjack dealer he'd come to know. That was the Abbie he knew, the girl he cared for. "Well then… It seems you've found your fire," he congratulated with a tilt of the head. With a smirk, he dared, "You name the bet this time."

"Same as before. Only if you win this round, you'll have to decide my fate," she joked. She never thought a meeting with a ruler would be so entertaining. It was definitely unorthodox, but that was fine by her.

"I'll take that," he accepted, drawing a card. "Dammit," he hissed under his breath. "I mean… I lost." He put his cards down and rubbed his temple exasperatedly. "So you want to know what I'm going to do with the Empire?" He sighed and leaned forward. "Honestly, what I've been doing. Come up with new inventions, reach out to neighboring lands, keep trade up… all of that. Just keep improving until I can't improve any more- or until I die. Then it will be up to whoever's next in line to take over- whoever that is."

"You haven't thought of finding a suitor," Abirose asked, though nervously. She didn't know if she was overstepping her bounds with that question.

He shook his head. "I'm not one for forced relationships, Lady Abirose." He sighed and leaned back in the sofa. "If anyone were to bring an heir to the throne, it would be my brother. Let's just say women seem to adore him," he confided quietly as he drew the next round of cards.

"Women seemed quite interested in you at the coronation, sir," she remembered. How could she forget? She almost made a scene of it. She blushed as she remembered some not too shy men also seemed jealous. "And some men…"

He seemed to roll his eyes at that part. "Well of course. Who wouldn't want to live in a palace," he pointed out as he analyzed his cards.

"Yes, right. Sorry for nearly tripping us up during that dance," she apologized, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red.

"Don't worry about it," he eased as he stretched. It was just a dance, he thought as he lowered his arms. He leaned forward again. "In any case, what should this next round be," he pondered excitedly.

She leaned toward him, the blush on her face fading as she smiled. "Tell a secret you haven't told anyone else," she requested with a giggle.

With a short exhale through his nose, the emperor jerkily tilted his head. "Well, you can forget government secrets, that's for sure," Gascon stipulated as he placed his cards down.

Seeing he had stuck with the card selection he started off with, she drew two more. "Bust…," she called out dejectedly, revealing her hand with a lowered head. She didn't anticipate her loss, obviously.

"Overcompensated did you," he observed, a playful smirk threatening to show itself. "So what's this secret?"

"C-can I change the bet," she whined with a pout. She glared at the bookshelf, her cheeks red. I really should have chosen something else, she berated herself. What the hell is wrong with you, Abirose?

"Sorry. That's not how it works," he denied, finally allowing himself a grin as he crossed his arms.

She breathed heavily as her face went red again. "Emperor Gascon, I… Well… On the matter of suitors and all that… well, I have to say that I don't know if I'd be available," she began, fidgeting with her hands. She saw him raise an eyebrow at her.

What is she trying to say? Has she found someone? He felt a pang of slight jealousy but also happiness. Abbie was, first and foremost, his friend and whatever choice she had made he'd stand by her for it. As long as she was happy with her decision…

"While I'm not technically in a relationship, I have been admiring someone- though he doesn't look like much…" She looked down and nervously chuckled. She finally looked up, mustering up the courage to say it. "My heart's been stolen."

It took a moment for him to register what she said. Stolen… Stolen how? he thought. Like a piece of her heart's been stolen? When he read more into her actions, he realized what she meant, finally. His eyes widened as he slowly put the cards down on the table. "By whom?"

"A thief. A wandering thief…," she admitted, looking away shamefully. His face reminded her so much of that vagrant that frequented her old place of work. The pickpocket had taken it without even realizing it. Here she was: meeting with his royal double. She placed her cards down. She looked at his hand hesitantly. "Y-you had blackjack, by the way," she whispered, realizing he had been caught off-guard by her outburst.

"Then tell me… this thief. What was his name," he steadily asked, keeping his voice in check.

He had a feeling he knew the answer already. His heart was racing. He felt hot under the collar, dizzy, and nauseous. He managed to feign a neutral countenance but just barely.

She held a hand to her chest as if she were trying to catch her breath. For a moment, she didn't know if she could say it, that thief's name. Her fingers idly wandered over the lace that overlaid more opaque material on her white dress. "'Swaine'. His name was 'Swaine'," she breathed at last. She looked up at the royal next to her, the royal that just barely managed to hold the sudden flood of emotion back. She reached for the cards, expecting to simply move on with the game.

His restraint shattered- she had to know now. He had to tell her who he was… But even that was overshadowed by the raw unbridled passion he felt in that moment. _Abbie_ was all he could think. Just her name. Just her name, and with it all sheer adoration of the blackjack dealer- of the Lady who sat next to him playing that very game. He couldn't stop himself.

Suddenly, her chin was being gently taken up by Gascon who had drawn close to her. "Y-your majesty, wha- what are you-." She stammered by the man's sudden forwardness. He stole a kiss from her. Her eyes widened in shock. What was going on? Where did this come from? The kiss was gentle, not at all forced. Was she missing something, here? It was tender, warm- there was _meaning_ behind it… Was it a confession of love? Even so, who was he to do this?

When he withdrew, he smiled warmly at her. "Now it seems I've gone and gambled _my_ heart away to a blackjack dealer."

Her face was red and she remained frozen in the position he had left her in. It felt so wrong. Even so, something about it warmed her. At the same time, he had, in a way, forced himself on her. She felt confused about everything in that moment. No matter how tender he intended it to be, she couldn't let it stand- she wasn't going to let him take advantage of her. With that, she shook her head as her heated blush died down.

She threw a hand against the man's face in disgust. "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just kiss someone like that," she shouted angrily. When she saw him rub his left cheek she realized what she had done. She had struck the emperor- one of them at least- a crime punishable by imprisonment or even death. She put her hands up to her mouth in horror.

"Hnng… That arm strength. I can definitely see how you're so good at climbing, my lady." He grinned, still rubbing his jaw. "I guess I did kind of deserve it."

"Y-you're not mad," she warily noticed, shrinking back from the lanky form in front of her.

"You know… I've been hit by worse, surprisingly." He scoffed as he looked up at the ceiling. He looked back at the woman in white. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"No…" she shook her head, trying to make sense of it. "But you can't be… that's not- Swaine never could fit into that crowd. You can't be him." She looked up at Gascon who sighed and got up.

"I guess you need to be convinced, hmm?" He walked over to a magenta changing curtain and dresser near the bed. He threw off the cape and medallion he wore underneath it. He picked up the coat from the corner of the veil that had hung out of view and pulled it on. Last, he rubbed the makeup from under his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.

He returned to the sofa as he proceeded to mess up his hair to his liking. He hunched a little as he spread his arms to display his alternate identity. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't know how to act?" He noticed how her angered expression began to mix with betrayal. He didn't want to lose her over this. "Granted, everything I've ever told you have been one-hundred percent true. I _did_ get a job- I became an emperor and an informant to myself. I _have_ helped save the world. I _do_ have a younger brother who I _still_ think has more capability to run this place than I do. Everything. Every last bit I've ever told you has been the truth."

He walked over and knelt so that he was lower than her. "Abbie. I _am_ an emperor of Hamelin, but I'm also Swaine, the master-thief. We're one and the same, you see." He saw her look away from him with a hurt look in her eye. "I'm sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you, to make a fool out of you…," he softly pleaded as he took her hand.

She looked down at the tired face of the vagrant she had developed feelings for. The man who shared his adventures with her over a simple game of cards. Yet, somehow, he was also the Mechanical Sage, the machine-minded ruler of the Pig Iron Empire. She felt conflicted, enraged, heartbroken. What could she say to such a person? She thought he was honest. She thought he was kind. But he had tricked her into believing two entirely different realities. "Swaine- your highness- whoever you are, how can I? I don't even know who you are anymore. How can I trust you?"

His heart sank. He looked down and searched for a way to convince her. He just needed a way. He met her eyes and felt a bit of guilt when he saw tears forming in them. He breathed heavily. "You trusted Gascon to catch you during the dance, didn't you? And Swaine when he said that everything would get better?"

She blinked, recalling those moments. She nodded fervently. She felt him grip her hand tighter, almost as if he didn't want to let go.

"Then tell me, dear Abbie, tell me: how are we any different? You escape to the casino to deal blackjack, or at least you use to. The Abbie I know there is much different than Lady Abirose of Eperlan. I'd trust both without any doubt," he argued, glaring up at her. When she didn't respond he got up and walked to his desk. He pulled out the Masterthief's Magnum.

He walked over to her and tossed the famed gun on the table. Her eyes focused on the weapon. It shown so brilliantly in the light of the room.

"I trust everyone who helped me make that gun. _This_ is the invention I used the scrolls for- the very scrolls that you helped me acquire, Abbie," he softly recapped as he carefully hovered his hand over the plus-shaped barrel. He looked over at Abbie who looked up at the stranger in front of her. He turned away and closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. "If we hadn't been able to make this, Marcassin might have never asked me to reconsider becoming emperor."

He spun around, facing her once again. "Abbie, if this doesn't prove to you that I am who I say I am- that I have nothing to hide, then at least take solace in this…" He took her hand again. "Because of you, I've been able to do so much for the Empire! I've been able to help so many people- even you." When she looked away from him he frowned. He reached up to caress her face, still holding her hand.

"Swaine, stop it," she ordered, snatching her hand out of his. "Please, just stop," she quietly begged, seemingly withdrawing into herself. The outstretched hand of the thief in question dropped to his side.

"Abbie, I-," he began to whisper. Their friendship was crumbling, sifting right through his hands.

"Don't touch me," she shouted when he began to step forward. When she was sure he stood in place, she began to speak. "I don't know who you are…," she whimpered quietly. A single tear escaped her eyes.

There was silence between the two of them. It eerily hung overhead, filling the room. The two never thought they'd see the day when such discomfort would visit them.

His tired eyes focused on the distraught, confused woman. He let out a hopeless sigh. "I'm whoever you want me to be, Abbie…," he permitted softly, giving in, allowing her to choose.

He had lost her again… He began to collect the playing cards. As he began to walk to the bookcase, he stopped when he felt her hand take his.

"I'm sorry… It's so much to take in. Can I ask you something, your majesty," she quietly asked, slowly shifting her hand so her fingers could wrap around his palm. It felt rough but warm. She wanted _him_. Just him. Not the thief, not the emperor, just the man behind them both. "What did you fall in love with first… me or my card-playing?"

He was silent for a moment. He thought seriously about his answer. He looked over his shoulder with a knowing smile. "Well, it's honestly hard to say." He laughed. "I fell in love with the card-playing, but only because the card-player was _you_." He turned around with almost a twirl. "I haven't been able to play blackjack since you left the casino- not after playing it so much with you. It just never felt the same." He clasped the hand holding the deck of cards over hers.

"I'll entrust these to you, alright." He turned his hands over so he could give her the set of cards. "They'd be better off with you."

"Your Highness," she breathed, gripping the box as she looked into his eyes. _Swaine…_

"'Gascon'," he corrected. "Let's start over, shall we? If you can promise to give me time to talk, I can promise to keep it open between us. That's fair, right?"

She leaped from the couch and wrapped her arms around him in a massive embrace. She rubbed her face into his chest, tears of happiness staining it. "That's all I wanted to hear, Gascon."

He jumped from the sudden show of affection. "Hey, now." He laughed before returning the gesture. "Thank you for accepting me, Abbie…," he whispered, savoring her friendship, her love.

"You fiend," she jested as she separated from him. "I wouldn't expect an emperor to wield a pickpocketing gun, anyhow."

"Heh. Credit for the design goes to yours truly." He picked up the magnum, twirled it, and shot the grappling claw out to the bookshelf, grabbing a rolled-up blueprint. The claw shot back into the gun and the emperor took the blueprint from its grip. "Told you, master-thief."

"Too soon, Swaine," she griped through an amazed smile. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. For both of them. What the future had in store was a mystery.


	7. Bread and Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Alright… alright… I'm sorry. I wanted to leave it there. I _really_ did! But then… I just couldn't stop thinking about it. So, I present to you a totally romantic chapter… Oh yeah. Warning: fluffy romantic fluff is ahead. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights. I just write the fic.

They met off and on, always under formal, official pretenses- many to manage the land of Eperlan. It had grown in the year that followed and often the Lady found herself at the Mechanical sage's door with building permits and plans in hand to review. She often found it more expedient than the mail system in place, plus it allowed for better communication between the capitol and her homeland. There were times she even needed the emperor's express permission and guidance in updating the smelting and mining facilities.

While they often had little time to talk casually during these meetings, the two enjoyed each other's company. Gascon found her intelligence on internal affairs quite strong, to his delight. She had extensive knowledge of the history of her neighbors as well as their current policies. Often, her qualms with expansion were based on such information.

"Might I suggest talking with them," Gascon had asked her. "Even if you disagree, you may find a decent compromise. Perhaps there's some land they're willing to give up for a price," he suggested, smiling as he held his hand out to the side. He had a fair point, she thought at the time. Taking that suggestion to heart, she approached the neighboring lands' leaders and reopened the doors of communication between them, allowing more opportunities to strengthen not only Eperlan but also the Empire.

Over and over, bit by bit the empire got stronger. More and more lands within it started to really communicate and strengthen each other. Trade had been going strong, but that was only because they had been working off old agreements. Now, places were upgrading, flourishing, all thanks to technologies they had negotiated to exchange with one another.

And Gascon knew this because of legitimate visits to the neighboring lands. Combined with what he picked up as Swaine, he could tell things were for the better at last. It wasn't perfect, but it was certainly an improvement from the impoverished state he found it in.

There was just one land he hadn't officially visited yet as the emperor. That was Eperlan- the land of Lady Abirose. It was here his beloved blackjack dealing witch called home.

Accompanied by two royal guards, he walked down the center of the street admiring the stands outside the grey bricked buildings. Some of them looked rebuild from war-torn dilapidated ones. Others looked newer than that. The stands were vendors of various goods made in in-home businesses. The signs looked fresh and new, the produce and goods even more so.

People chatted eagerly and bought their groceries. Kids played in the streets. It seemed the shopping district had grown past its bounds to the main street since the thief had surveyed the area. The smell of fresh bread taunted him and his stomach growled. He didn't have anything to eat yet and it was already in the second half of the afternoon. So many things had to be done. When he got focused on a task, his appetite became the least of his worries.

He found the source: a cheese and bread stand. He stopped short, the guards with him coming to halt.

"Sir… We have an appointment to keep," one of them reminded him as he eyed the stand.

"It would only take a moment," he whined as he looked back at the guard. "I haven't had a bite to eat, you know."

"Sir…," the guard protested, reaching out a hand as the cape cloaked royal approached the stand. "With all due respect, it's a little unwise to buy food without a person to test it." The guard frowned when his employer proceeded to purchase a small wedge of cheese and a piece of bread

"If you're so worried, _you_ test it," he ordered bitterly as he broke the bread in half along with the cheese wedge. He handed it to the guard. "I'm sure you and your comrade could use a snack anyway." With that, he started devouring his half. "You seem to forget- I've lived off worse. This is a feast compared to the meals _I've_ had," he casually lamented through a mouthful of food as they walked down the street to the mansion on the end of it.

The guards looked at him for a moment as they walked, exchanged glances, and shrugged as the guard with the food broke down the small loaf and cheese halves into smaller pieces to share. There wasn't a point in asking- the royal had been pressed about his past before with little result. The older brother of the Great Sage was one stubborn man about that.

They stood on the grounds of the mansion in front of the door of which a guard stepped forward to knock. The three were greeted by none other than Maria, the loyal servant of the family. At first, she was confused by the guards but then her face lit up at the sight of Gascon.

"Oh, you must be Emperor Gascon," she greeted, bowing. She smiled up at the co-emperor. "Welcome to the house of Eperlan. I am Maria, her Ladyship's servant since childhood."

He smiled as he looked down at the elderly woman and returned the bow. "Yes, I am. It's an honor to meet you, Miss Maria," he formally greeted.

With an enthused chuckle, she looked back at the main hall and nodded. "She's in the study. She's been expecting you, your majesty." She motioned her hand inside.

With a nod, the three entered, walking past the servant in black. The elder walked past them and led the way to a room in the back of the entrance hall. Upon entering, there were three regal massive bookshelves filled with text positioned between two large windows adorned with dark red curtains that illuminated the room. To the side was a fireplace with knickknacks on the mantle as well as a clock. In front of that was a coffee table on top of a dark red rug with a gold knot like designs decorating it over the cherry hardwood floor. It was accompanied by a matching sofa with two matching chairs, each upholstered with soft dark red satin cushioning.

Sitting on the sofa, reading a book, was Lady Abirose. She seemed entertained by it, so much so she didn't see the regal thief she'd grown to love walking into the room.

"You two," he began, addressing the guards. "Guard the doors outside."

"Sir," the other guard questioned, tilting his head. "Are you sure?"

He turned to them with an easy smile. "I trust her." His smile grew wider as he recalled all the information he shared with her- information no one else knew about him. She swore to keep to keep everything he told her to herself. So far, she held up her end of the bargain.

The guard looked down and then back up at Gascon. He had to have faith in his majesty. They were only there as back up, really. According to his younger brother and the servants, he had fought off even greater threats. The guard nodded and looked over at his compatriot and they both left him behind.

"Is there anything I can get you," Maria asked, peering around the corner of the door.

"No. Thank you, ma'am." He nodded over his shoulder as he approached Abirose. With that, the door firmly shut behind him.

She looked up when she heard the nearby sounds of someone approaching her. She smiled widely when she saw the royal rogue, snapping the book shut. She placed it on the table and leaped to her feet. She wanted to hug him but held herself back. "Your majesty," excitedly greeted, bowing.

He took her hand in his and lifted it gently to kiss it. "Lady Abirose," he answered softly, smirking at her as she blushed. He looked at the door then back at her and whispered, "Hello, Abbie."

She giggled and took her hand back from him. "Gascon, with the doors closed there's no need to whisper. It's almost impossible for anyone to hear."

He raised an eyebrow at that fact. He had just sent the guards away. "Then perhaps it's a good thing I trust you, Abbie." He took a seat near the bookshelves on the sofa and the Lady dressed in a plain white dress followed suit. "I'm glad to see Eperlan," he paused when he looked at her cheerful carefree disposition, "And you have been doing well."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Ever since we've started talking more, the land has been doing well! I've been able to go out and have some fun even!" She tilted her head back at the taller man. "But none of the dances I've been to have been as memorable as the coronation…"

"Was it really that memorable," he jested as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He looked at the bookshelf, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, come on, _Swaine_! It was the first time we danced together!" She crossed her arms and glared at him.

He looked back at Abbie and sighed, smiling fondly at the memory. "Was that what it was," he continued to tease.

She elbowed him in the chest. "Stop it, you," she commanded lightheartedly, giggling afterward.

He winced then laughed, rubbing his chest. "Y'know… we haven't had time to really talk as much," he noticed recalling their last meetings. He raised a hand to his chin. "I miss our little chats."

"So do I," she reminisced. "But whatever time we get to spend together is nice…" She looked up at him and scooted closer towards the center of the couch. "At least there isn't a bar counter separating us, though." She laughed nervously. "It's our own civic duty that's replaced it."

Gascon shook his head. "No, I think not. I think it's brought us closer together." He inched closer to her. He placed his hand down. He looked at the fireplace for a moment. "You've proven yourself capable and I've been able to instill more trust in you than ever before to run your end of the kingdom." When he looked back he noticed her blushing. He looked down and noticed his hand over hers on the couch. He hesitated for a moment, slightly lifting his hand before gently gripping her own. He looked up at her again. "Eperlan could never have asked for a better Lady. I'm sure Lord Evren would be proud."

He had a point. Everything since the repair of the mining rails and the healing of the brokenhearted had been her doing. She also found herself trusting the co-emperor to keep the many provinces of the Empire at peace. She slowly nodded. "Thank you, Gascon…," she whispered, holding her hand to her chest.

She looked up at him and admired his face. It wasn't as thin as it had been when they first met. It was good to see the rogue in good health. Regardless of that, he owed her something… Something he had stolen. She recalled their first kiss- the very first official meeting between her as a fully fledged Lady and the older co-emperor of Hamelin. Their little courtship was a bit… untraditional to say the least. It was a secret between them. No one knew, not even the younger brother of her companion.

It was a mutual need of privacy, of keeping things simple that drove it. If people knew… it would make things more complicated. Tradition would have them formally court. People would find out and there'd be a completely different air. They'd start asking questions, making suggestions about their relationship- a relationship that was wholly _their_ business and no one else's. They both seemed to be in silent agreement that just being in the room together, whether it be official business or not was good enough for them. They didn't need a fancy dinner or a ball. Just talking like they always did, divulging personal secrets like they had over a game of cards was all they needed.

What if it wasn't…? That kiss… she wanted to feel all the warmth that came with it again. "Swaine…?" She nervously locked eyes with him. "Do you ever feel we should…," she began, swallowing. She looked down and back up again, the thief following her movements. "That we should…," she tried again, shifting nervously on the couch. "We should make things more… official between us," she finally concluded, blushing.

She heard him sigh and saw him look away. He rubbed the back of his head in thought. He frowned as he looked back at Abirose. "I'm not sure… I'm worried about how much people would press us, mostly for your sake, my lady." Though he smiled, his eyes displayed a sense of concern. "Do you think you could handle that kind of pressure?"

She looked away, seriously considering it. She laughed nervously, exhaled deeply, and then met his gaze again. "If our love really is true…," she began, lightly reaching out a hand to rest over Gascon's heart. It beat steadily underneath. "I think I can handle it. I think we'll be okay." She smiled and pressed her hand a little more, her fingers spreading on his chest. "I want to be able to see you without having it be for official meetings. I want to be able to share an embrace without worrying about the public finding out…"

He looked down at her hand and back up at her. He felt the same. The public could press all they liked. Advisors, fellow governors, and even Marcassin could try to force their opinions on the matter. It was theirs and theirs alone and no one would change that. He wanted the same freedom she wanted and this seemed to be the only way. "I agree, Abbie. I miss being able to talk about other things. I miss playing blackjack with you, joking with you, and just… simply having fun." He beamed at her, caressing the hand on the sofa. "I think you're right… It's time to let this secret go. We can't keep going like this."

She nodded, her cheeks rosy as she shared his resolve. She lunged forward, her lips landing on his. Gascon let out a shocked yelp as her weight forced him down on the seat of the couch. His hands flew up briefly and he laid haphazardly beneath her. He stared up at her closed eyes and returned the favor, relaxing under the former blackjack dealer. She had repaid the tender warmth of their first kiss, the abruptness of it. She took back the kiss he stole.

She lifted her head and their lips parted. She sighed contently as she looked down at the man she had just assailed. He smiled up at her, comfortable as could be despite it. "You taste like cheese and bread, Swaine," she commented, giggling at the royal.

"Funny, that's what I ate before coming here," he shot back, amused at her observation. He felt the weight of her head add itself to his chest. He breathed through his nose and tilted his head up, adjusting to the change. He tilted it back down to admire the Lady as he carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She seemed so adorable in this manner, curled up on top of him. He softly chuckled as he idly rubbed the back of her shoulders. He could get used to this kind of abrupt affection. He loved her spontaneity, her ambitious spirit.

She moved her hand over to listen to his heart. It was slowing down from a rushed rhythm. She felt the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his body. Was it right to feel so comfortable because of it? She closed her eyes, recalling her childhood days, of being held by her father while he read stories to her. She remembered drifting to sleep often in the middle of a tale. She had felt so safe and at ease like nothing could harm her. That same warmth emanated from him, emanated from Gascon- from Swaine. That feeling had returned in the guise of the man she fell in love with. She closed her eyes and hummed contently.

This quiet sense of security, this blissful moment of simple cuddling: he wished it could stay that way. He reached up to stroke her head, running his fingers through her brown hair. He smiled when she shifted her head in response. "My dear Abirose…," he whispered. "I promise you: I'll do everything in my power to make sure you're safe, to keep you as happy as you are now." With a sigh of comfort, he closed his eyes as well, both falling asleep in each other's arms.


	8. Play Me Like A Violin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This and only this chapter is rated mature as it does address rape at some point (not at length and not actually getting as far as intercourse but it _does_ almost happen). For those of you who may be affected by this, this warning is for you. Read at your own discretion.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Ni No Kuni. I don't own the characters. I only own the ideas I've used for certain ideas.

He guided her up the trail, their disguises as the blackjack witch and the drifting thief masking their true identities. He held tightly onto her hand, a gleeful smirk on his lips. He could feel her trembling sense of confusion as they ran through the moonlit graveyards and long-dead trees. He glanced back, as he released a short laugh. She seemed like an unsure child following a parent almost. He couldn't help but find that adorable.

She noticed his glance and closed her partly open mouth, forming a small smile. "You going to tell me why we're going up the Tombstone Trail, Swaine," she asked pointedly, trustingly.

"A con-man doesn't tell _all_ his secrets," he joked, absentmindedly caressing her hand with his thumb. They were heading to the top, where the moon was especially radiant this time of the year.

They hadn't yet revealed their relationship, so they played it safe on where they had their dates. They would often find a cave or a forest-dwelling tribe to play blackjack and idly chat. Swaine reasoned that they had to wait for the right time to announce it to his younger brother who would hopefully approve and help dispel any misinformation.

This night was a special occasion, however. It was the night the music played, the night they had truly begun to connect as something more than friends. Two years ago, they fell in love. What better way to commemorate that moment than to return to that spot and make a new memory?

Their pace slowed until they reached the center of the clearing. The gravestone was illuminated by the candles and the full moon behind it. The moon lit the area up and made the shadows of the plant life and jack-o-lanterns dance. He pulled on her arm sharply and swung her around, forcing a surprised shout from her. He caught her by the shoulder and stared down at the lovely witch.

She stared back up at his confident smiling face. "Swaine…," she hesitantly asked as her mostly free arm, not bound by his hand in hers, slowly raised and pressed her hand on his chest.

He chuckled and tilted his head to the side as if pondering her very nature. "Care to dance, my lady," he smoothly requested.

She hesitated then blinked at him. "Dance? To what music, my king," she played along, smirking at the truth in the joke.

He breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment with a contemplative smile. "That." He glanced to the side at the trail they had just run up. "The hidden music of nature." He began to take steps, guiding her to a tune she could not hear. "Just listen. It's a beautiful melody, tonight."

She looked down, following his motions. She tried to hear it, but could only hear- or rather feel- his heart beat and the footsteps they made. She began to wonder if all the stress from running his share of the empire had finally broken him. She looked back up at his face. It looked calm and collected. She let her arm snake around his back and pressed herself closer to him. She'd just follow him as she did during their first dance. She would always follow him. It didn't matter if she was dealing cards or governing a land- that was the reality.

She felt his heartbeat. She heard the rhythm of his breathing. She felt his arm do as hers did- wrap around her back with a steady hand resting on the opposite shoulder blade. She focused on those patterns and lined them up with her own movements. He allowed her to change their direction and she looked back up. He didn't seem to take his eyes off of her.

He watched her expressions as they navigated the uneven terrain of the clearing. Had she figured out his suggestion? She made changes to their pace, to the way they danced. He would always let her lead if she wanted- no matter what. She was impulsive, stubborn, hotheaded, intelligent, and beautiful. She knew every dark secret he could tell her. He trusted her.

She gave everything she could to measure up to him, to impress him. She tried her best _for_ him. He gave her the independence in her life as a Lady she thought she could only find as a witch. He had saved her from disappearing. He had given her comfort when she needed it when her world was falling apart. He had given up his secret life to her and she held it close to her, never letting a soul hear of it. She trusted him.

In each other's arms, they shared a dance met with equal faith. When he made a move, she let him and likewise, she was met with no resistance. They took turns leading each other, as unorthodox as it would seem.

It was then she heard the sounds of creatures in the distance. At first, it didn't have any basis or structure. She paired it with the beat of his heart and his steady breathing. Suddenly, it was an orchestra number. This was the music he heard… He had used her breathing to bring chaos to order. She looked up at him and smiled emphatically as their movements matched and pace of their dance became less frantic and unorganized. "I hear it! It's beautiful, Swaine," she cried, receiving a grin in return.

He smiled back at her. He opened his mouth to comment when the back of his foot caught on a tree root. The two went falling back. In an effort to protect her, he wrapped his other arm around her, shielding her from the ground. He sharply exhaled as the wind was knocked out of him.

The blackjack dealer laid on top of her companion, her eyes squeezed shut. She heard slightly labored breaths come from the man beneath her and she raised her head to inspect him. "You okay," she wondered sympathetically.

He opened an eye and smirked at her. "I've survived a one-hundred-foot drop after being shot out of a cannon into the mouth of a giant fairy godmother. I think I can survive a small fall like this one," he reassured, blushing at the oddity of the situation. "The question is, are you? I'd hate to see you mess up that pretty witch outfit of yours."

She giggled at his flippant concern. She loved the fact he didn't treat her too gently, just gently enough to be considerate and kind. He respected her durability. "Your coat doesn't need any more holes, Swaine. I think that's what I'd worry the most about." She smirked and crawled up so she could directly look him in the eye. "I'm fine, is what I'm saying, you big old idiot."

He chortled and reached up to run a hand through her hair. He lifted his head to lightly kiss her. "I'm _your_ 'big old idiot'," he shot back as he watched her blush in return. He flashed another smile at her before kissing her again, though more passionately than before. Abbie returned the affection, their lips only parting for short gasps of air.

She felt his hands tense up in her hair and felt him shift underneath. She rested a hand on his shoulder and caressed his jaw. They savored the euphoria that came with it, with each kiss, with each pleasant moan the other released.

When they stopped, they breathed heavily, the hot, wet breaths of air hitting each other in the face. They stared at each other, both blushing deeply, beaming as their breathing returned to normal.

"I love you," the woman in black admitted, letting her head fall, her forehead gently resting on his.

He hummed contently. He looked up at her chocolate brown eyes and she stared down into his. He shifted the hand that rested in her hair down to her cheek, her chin cupped by his palm. "I love you, too," he softly replied.

"Enough to shout it to the world," she argued in a hushed whisper. She raised her head as she watched his smile widen.

Carefully, he shifted his right hand from her back to the base of her neck. "Come closer, Abbie," he directed as he brought her head closer to his so he could whisper in her ear. "I love you, my beautiful rose…," he complimented.

She lifted her head again and threw a confused smile. "Why did you whisper that," she questioned him, frowning slightly. "You didn't need to."

"Because," he began, blushing and chuckling nervously. "You _are_ my world. You give me all the more reason to be a better ruler- a better _person_ ," he explained, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

She blushed but her frown increased. She looked down and closed her eyes. "Don't say that. I'm not that important." She took his hand off of her cheek.

"But you are," he contested, his smile disappearing as he looked up at her incredulously. "Why would you think that, Abbie?"

She shook her head and locked eyes with him again. "I'm nothing compared to you. When we finally make this official, I don't know if I can match up to you- if I can be that Lady you'd want me to be." Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. "The whole dainty lady front is just that, a front! I'm impulsive! I'm rough! I like to gamble! I fell for a thief, for heaven's sake!" She began to cry. "I don't understand, Gascon. Why does someone like you love me?"

He felt her tears fall on his face. He hated this. He hated seeing her so worked up, so hurt. She didn't realize… He reached up and tenderly wiped the trail of tears from her face. "Abbie…," he called out to her. She froze but didn't look back at him. "Abbie," he tried again, taking her chin and lifting her head gently. When she tried to fight it, he fought back, forcing her to face him. "Abbie, look at me," he ordered, his face set and determined. "I don't want the Lady of Eperlan. I don't want the blackjack witch. I didn't fall in love with either of them."

Her eyes widened and she stared down in shock at him. Was all of this an act? Had he really been playing her? She should have known better- she would have thought better of him if her emotions weren't so high. She tried to release herself from his grip, to get up, but she found his arm pinning her down. "Swaine! Let me go! Let go of me," she angrily demanded, a fresh batch of tears rolling down.

"Abbie. Abirose, calm down for a moment and _listen_ to me! I fell in love with _you_." She stopped writhing, she stopped struggling. She finally willingly looked down at the man beneath her. He had a determined frown. His eyes were focused on hers. She was all he would care for at that moment. "I don't want the perfect Lady. I want you. I'll _always_ want you. I'll take my rose, thorns and all." He loosened his grip and wiped the tears from her face again. "I love _you_ , Abbie, Abirose. I love everything about you- even what you think are flaws." He gave a short hum and gently smiled up at her. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

She held his hand to her cheek as she stared back at him. Through her tear-stained face, she laughed and grinned. "I don't deserve this," she admitted. "I don't deserve you."

"Neither do I," he responded. He lifted his head to press his forehead against hers. "I guess that's one more thing we have in common, eh? We don't deserve each other." He laughed as well, short huffs of air escaping him. "I don't deserve someone as lovely as you," he stated as he closed his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They breathed in sync with one another, cherishing the moment. Finally, Abbie crawled back down to rest her head on his chest, his arms carefully wrapping around her again. She listened to his heart again, to his breathing, to the chorus of creatures down the trail. She somehow wished they could be closer than this… Was she being selfish to want more…?

Why had it suddenly changed? She loved him despite his status, despite his past, and despite his flaws. At one point, they could simply talk and that was enough. She glanced up at him. He had fallen asleep, snoring loudly into the night. For an emperor, he was peculiarly okay with sleeping anywhere.

She giggled and reached up and ran a hand through the purposefully messy hair. She felt content when he seemed to respond slightly by subtly bobbing his head in his sleep against her touch. This… This was the closeness she craved. She could mess with him in his sleep and he wouldn't wake up to defend himself. She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable.

She winced when her left side ran into something hard- like a metal pipe- on his belt. Curiously, she reached past his coat. Before she grabbed it, she looked up at her sleeping companion. He hadn't stirred at all, it seemed. She carefully retrieved it and looked at the offending object. Another pickpocketing gun- one with gold waves and a blue oval near the muzzle of the deep mauve weapon. She raised an eyebrow at it. It looked newer than the Masterthief's Magnum, despite its more traditional weapon design.

"Umm… Swaine," she asked him, nudging the sleeping thief. "Swaine," she repeated as she took his shoulder and shook him.

"Hurk," he coughed as his head jolted up, looking down sleepily at her. "…Abbie? What is it," he groggily snapped. He noticed the weapon and the tiredness in his eyes quickly faded. "What are you doing with that," he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"I could ask you the same! You made another pickpocketing gun," she interrogated. "Why?"

"Abbie," he groaned, leaning his head back. "Abbie, have you forgotten what I do sometimes- this whole thief charade? How do you think this all started…," he reminded her as he looked back at the witch.

She looked at the gun and looked back at him. She sighed at her lapse in memory. "Sorry… I forgot." She put the weapon up in his belt. "What happened to the Magnum?"

Swaine breathed and stayed silent in thought. "Sorry, I meant to do this after our dance," he led on, smirking. He chuckled when she squeaked in confusion. "I actually have something to give you, Abbie." He took his left hand off of her and quickly pulled something from the far-left side of his belt. "I want you to have it. It's better suited for you." He handed her the gun in question.

She gasped at the sight of it. The moonlight illuminated it, giving it an otherworldly feel as it shimmered. She shook her head. "No. I can't take this." She looked up at him. "This is something you and your brother made. It's special. I shouldn't."

"I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't. Just take it," he ordered. He locked eyes with her. "If you ever get into trouble, I'll still be able to protect you if you have this gun. Take it," he reasoned, offering the gun to her again.

She shook her head. "It won't be the same!" She grabbed the lapels of his coat as she stared into his eyes. "You're suggesting that you won't be able to see me again after this when you say that!" She shook him. "Don't say that, Swaine!"

He grabbed one of her arms and stared back fiercely. "In my line of work- especially as Swaine- that's always a possibility! Even without the Dark Djinn, there will always be horrible people! This is insurance. This is me trying to keep you safe," he explained harshly. There was a short gasp from his love as her eyes widened in understanding. "So please. I want you to have it. I want you to use it if you need to. It hardly gets the use it needs, anyhow…," he persuaded, his tone softer.

She sighed and looked away. He was right. She wouldn't always be able to count on Whistle to protect her. Nor would she always be able to count on her thief. When all else failed, she would at least have something to fall back on. She took the gun and looped it in her orange sash around her waist.

"Come here," he softly called as he pulled her close again. He cradled her in his arms, a hand idly resting on her head. "I'm giving you the same promise I gave Marcassin all those years ago… Wherever you are, no matter how far away, I'll always be there if you need me."

She sighed quietly into his chest and closed her eyes. That warmth greeted her again. Once again, she felt safe in his arms. She wanted to be this close to him… forever.

~*~*~

Gascon sat at his desk, once again poring over legal documents and innovative plans for Hamelin and other areas of the Empire. The week had been quite tiring with his brother out to negotiate resources with the other kingdoms- even delivering messages on his elder brother's behalf. Marcassin had a more eloquent way of phrasing things, so the mechanical sage often found it more beneficial to handle foreign affairs this way.

He was expected back tonight, so he planned ahead to announce the good news of finding a partner who would not only continue to make him happy but also provide the chance of succession. It would be a good way to welcome him back as well as make the relationship official.

He sometimes wished he hadn't become emperor. He sometimes wished he had stayed a nomad for this reason. Everything got so much more complicated than it needed to be. He could have been with Abbie with no possible repercussions. But then where would Hamelin be? Would the previously neglected lands still exist? Would all of the innovative progress they had made happen?

Furthermore… he wouldn't have the same relationship with his beloved- if she survived. For that reason, for his brother's sake, and for the citizens' sakes as well, he was happy to have become co-emperor of Hamelin. He wouldn't trade this truth for anything.

He sighed as he cleaned up the papers on his work desk, organizing them to be looked over another day. He leaned back on the stool and stretched, the cape bunching up at his shoulders. He wondered how Marcassin had managed this before he came along, after being healed of his heartbreak that was. It must have been so tiring. No wonder he always seemed so distant when they met up with him back then!

He leaned forward, deciding to press on again through at least two more plans and a request. After an hour of strenuous review and corrections, he stretched again this time leaning a bit further back. He started to lose balance, the weight of his torso falling prey to gravity. "Woah," he sounded as he fell back. When he thought he would hit the floor, he felt a steady hand supporting the center of his back. He opened his eyes and looked up. "…Abirose," he wondered, tilting his head at the Lady clad in a simple white gown. The strength developed from her climbing hobby paid off as she managed to catch him and carefully help him up.

"You klutz," she teased when the royal got his bearings. "Can't even stay upright in your own palace. Tsk, tsk," she finished, shaking her head at him.

"Abbie, what are you doing here," he yawned, placing a hand over his mouth. He leaned forward, allowing himself to hunch. He didn't care how dragged out he looked- Abbie had seen him in worse conditions.

"You invited me over to introduce me to your brother, remember? You're such an oaf, sometimes, Swaine," she criticized, nudging the man. Despite her underhanded insults, she smiled at him.

His eyes widened as he remembered and he raised his head. "Oh. Right! Dammit," he recalled. He looked up at her. "How long were you waiting," he asked as he slowly got up from his perch.

"About an hour. I knocked, even," she responded nonchalantly. "I'm sure you were busy, though, so I didn't knock too much."

He looked down and then slapped his hand to his forehead, pushing his head back. "An hour… Abbie, I am _so_ sorry." He looked back at her. Her smile was infectious and he found himself smiling back. He glanced down at her waist where a light blue sash tied in a similar fashion as her orange one resided. On the right side was the gun he had given her. "It matches you perfectly," he noted, motioning to the gun.

"Why thank you, your majesty! A thief gave it to me," she joked, even curtseying for emphasis.

"You're certainly full of jokes today, aren't you," he observed as he got closer to her. He reached out and ran his left hand through her hair as he admired her. How could someone so small be so strong, he often wondered.

She rolled her eyes. "Y'know, most say that's a sign that you're comfortable with your company." She reached up and held his jaw in her hand. "So, when will we meet your brother?" She chuckled and grinned. "It's funny, in all this time, I've never personally met the Great Sage Marcassin formally. I've only had the pleasure of knowing you, Gascon."

"Well, you _did_ have it out for him for a bit there," Gascon reminded her, glancing to the side. He removed his hand from her head when he heard footsteps echo in the hall. Likewise, she did the same. When they passed, they both heaved a sigh of relief.

"I hope he accepts me… as a suitor for you," Abirose nervously divulged, looking down. She gasped shortly when he took her dainty hand. She looked up at her partner.

"Don't worry," he said, tilting his head as he looked at her. "Marcassin has always been kind and accepting. I don't think he'd intentionally deny this." He chuckled and smiled down at the Lady. "Besides, you're a good person, Abbie. I think he'd be overjoyed to have someone like you as family."

She found the confidence to smile as he did. Then a thought had occurred to her. "Umm… How would we do this? What of Eperlan," she inquired, looking down again.

"Oh, that? You know not every wife- or husband for that matter- to the emperor-," he stopped short, recalling his long-forgotten royal history lessons. "Or empress…" He shook his head and continued, "Becomes empress or emperor, right? You could always continue to manage Eperlan," Gascon explained as he tilted his head, his other hand resting thoughtfully on his chin.

"But it's so far from here! Gascon, I don't know if I can travel like that every day," she began to worry. She looked into his eyes and placed her free hand on his chest. "What will I do," she whispered to him.

He let out a deep breath and looked up. He looked back into her eyes and smiled as he pulled her into a hug. "We'll figure it out, don't worry." He slowly rubbed the center of her back. "Just know that no matter what, Eperlan will be safe. It will be taken care of."

She hummed thoughtfully as she looked up at her king. "Where did my snarky, rude thief go? Must you be so kind," she softly asked him.

"Oh, he's still here. He just knows when to shut it," he quipped, withdrawing from the embrace. He smirked as he gently moved his hand to her shoulder. He looked at the couch and the coffee table. "Why don't we sit? Marcassin may be a while," he suggested, gesturing it to it.

"It's a good thing I brought playing cards," she admitted, holding the old deck of cards he gave her up. She giggled as she grinned at his confused expression.

"Where were you keeping those," he asked as he took the set from her. He looked her over, trying to solve the mystery of the suddenly manifesting cards. "That dress has no pockets." He narrowed his eyes as they drifted to the only two remaining possibilities- one of which he found too damning to say.

She rolled her eyes again and walked over to the couch. "I had them in my sash before you get any ideas." She looked up at him, blushing slightly. "Though," she said in almost a whisper. "I kind of wish you had _some_ ideas- is that bad, Swaine?"

He sat down next to her. "No, not at all," he answered as he watched her deal out the cards. "Honestly, I think it would be normal at this point," he observed frankly. He glanced at her as he picked up the cards. "If it weren't for our still pending reveal, I'd even say that our clothes would be suitable collateral," he mused, laughing.

"Oh, yeah! I remember you mentioning that the first time we played like this!" She laughed as well as she drew another card.

They continued to reminisce about past endeavors. For hours they played like they used to in the Crypt Casino. They felt so at ease. The past moments returned to them- the blackjack witch and her thief carrying on, joking, chatting, and bonding over a set of cards.

Abbie yawned, catching Gascon's attention. He looked up from his hand and observed her. "We can stop if you're feeling tired," he suggested.

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to draw another card and lost her grip on it. "Oops." She ignored the concerned look on her friend's face.

"Abbie," he prodded. He returned his hand to the stack. "Abbie, if you'll sleep on the couch, I'll sleep on the floor," he offered, observing her face.

She shook her head and looked up. "No, not without you," she mumbled. "If I'm sleeping here, I'm sleeping with you."

He looked down for a moment. They couldn't do that. Not until it was made official. They couldn't be caught like that together. Even simple cuddling was dangerous, especially for Abbie's sake. The people of Eperlan, her dear little corner of the kingdom trusted her. She didn't need that soiled by their romantic rendezvous. "Abbie… We can't do that. We can't even _hold hands_ right now."

She looked down as she returned her hand to the deck of cards and boxed them up. She shivered, the thin material from her dress didn't shield her well from the cold interior of the palace. She placed her hand on his. "Then let me at least sleep in your bed- where you have blankets," she compromised.

He rolled his eyes and looked away. Her hand was colder than before. "Marcassin must have hit a snag coming home…" He sighed and looked back at her. "Fine… I guess we can share the bed. Just let me do one thing before we call it a night, alright," he requested, caressing her face. When she subtly nodded, he got up and went to the door. There was a click as a lock slid into place before he turned around and walked to the changing curtain.

"Gascon," she asked, confused by his actions. She could only hear the muffled sound of fabric shifting behind the curtain and the slight grunts of effort. When he re-emerged, he was wearing a simple gold unbuttoned, short-sleeved shirt and a dark green pair of swim trunks with a yellow sash.

When she didn't speak for a moment he began to wonder what was wrong. "…What is it?" He walked back to the woman still sitting on the couch. "Abbie?"

She looked back at the door and back at his face then down to his bare chest. "Oh… Well… I've just," she stopped to clear her throat. "I've never seen you without a shirt, before." She laughed nervously and smiled as she focused on his face again. "Why are you dressed like that, anyway?"

"Believe it or not, this outfit's just comfy," he began to explain. "I always sleep in it when I'm at home." He glanced to the side. "Well- to me- it's not that cold- the Winter Isles are definitely colder," he said, sensing her argument to his rationale. He took both of her hands in his. "In that aspect, you really are a Lady, Abirose," he indicated humorously, tilting his head. "Perhaps one day I'll have Marcassin take us there. It's _freezing_ , but also kind of beautiful in a way."

"Well of course. Sometimes the most desolate things are really the most beautiful when you get to know them." She reached up to caress his jaw. "Even a man in absolute rags with snarky observations can be an absolute gentleman."

"Ha! At least I won't leave you cold," he shot back, leaning toward her. He yawned a little and looked at the bed in the corner. He looked back and jerked his head toward it. "To bed then?" She nodded in response and let him lead her to it after remembering to deposit the Magnum on the table.

Despite how tired they felt, neither of them could get comfortable. There was this energy that seemed to prevail. Then it hit Abirose. They had napped together, either by accident or because one or the other threw themselves at each other for a surprise session of kisses or cuddling. Neither of them had actually shared a bed together before. It was different, laying under the covers, sleeping next to her friend, her cherished partner, and her eventual- physical- lover.

She looked over to him and noticed he seemed lost in thought, his hands behind his head as he looked up at the aunting of the bed. She wondered what he was thinking about. That somehow made her wonder about the reasoning behind this whole reveal. "Swaine," she nudged him, gently placing a hand on a covered part of his chest.

"Hmm," he responded, turning his head to partly acknowledge her. "What is it, Abbie?"

"Why _are_ we revealing this to Marcassin? Why not just tell the public about us meeting at the coronation and be done with it," she asked him, daring to move her hand over. His skin was warm, somehow soft. Despite how many battles he had faced, it felt like if she made the wrong move she would damage it, damage him.

He turned his whole body on his left side to face her. "You're actually making it harder, lying like that. It would require more people to corroborate our story. It would take some of the other attendees." He smirked as his eyes narrowed. "And not everyone there liked the idea of you dancing with me, remember? You think any of your fellow Dukes, Duchesses, Lords, or Ladies will pass up the chance to ruin your good name for a chance at the throne?" He took his free hand and lightly stroked from her shoulder to her waist. She was taking quite the risk of being in the same bed with him, already. "They would be the end of you. I wouldn't have that." He held his hand steady on her waist. "This is why we're just going to tell Marcassin about this. We're going to tell him the truth so he can help keep the peace."

"They couldn't take your word for it?" She searched his eyes. They were clouded with doubt. "You _are_ an emperor."

He shook his head, frowning. "Before… well…," he bobbed his head at her and shrugged. " _This_ , I sent word that I wasn't going to be looking for a suitor for a while. My focus was primarily on putting Hamelin and the rest of the empire back to order." He closed his eyes. "I worry that people would assume that you seduced me for my power- which we both know isn't the case…" He looked up at her, studying her. She smiled at him confidently, trustingly and he took comfort in that. "So, to protect both of us from false judgement, we need someone we can trust to help keep the story straight."

She nodded and hummed in thought but didn't say anything more. She tried to think of other ways that didn't involve his younger brother but each of them were met with horrible results in her mind. He was right in this instance.

Then she realized his hand placement. Not since the coronation had he put his hand there. At the time it was just formal posture. This time, however, it was an intimate gesture. Her face went red but she didn't move his hand anywhere else. She looked up at the tired eyes of the emperor thief.

Perhaps… Perhaps this was their chance, she began to think. Life was short. Hamelin needed an eventual successor. Once his brother returned, their relationship was as good as married, right? She let an uncertain but daring smile creep up.

He blinked for a moment, unsure what to make of her face. "…Abbie," he questioned, a slightly confused, ever concerned frown appearing on his own.

She used that arm strength of hers to overpower him, pushing him to his back and quickly placing herself on top of him. She pinned him down with her body weight, her legs spread over his waist. She stared down into the wide eyes of her companion.

"Abbie," he cautiously asked, his voice wavering. "Abbie, what are you doing?" He watched as she pressed her chest against his, one hand on his right shoulder the other toying with the sash on his pants. Recognizing her body language, he gripped her shoulders and glared up at her.

He didn't want to ruin their relationship. This… this intimacy. Not only did it go against tradition, but what she was suggesting- what she was doing- had two major end results: it would bring them closer, closer than they had ever been before, or it could completely destroy them. He promised to keep her happy. If it caused the latter… He couldn't live with that reality.

"Abbie! Abirose, stop," he demanded, his face thoroughly flushed as he felt her begin to tug down on the trousers. He began to panic when his request was ignored. He breathed faster, deeper through gritted teeth as his left hand slipped down the offending forearm. "Abbie, please! Don't do this," he shouted, his terror evident in his voice.

She halted, frozen and released from her lustful trance by his anguished cry. She felt a pang of guilt when she saw the fear in his eyes. "Gascon…? You don't want this," she asked as she looked down at his flustered nervous face. "I thought we could… That-," she stammered. She looked away. Realizing her mistake and her lapse in judgement, she looked back regretfully at Gascon. "I- I'm sorry," she whispered and sat up. His hands were trembling. She watched as his breath evened out. She contemplated leaving the bed entirely.

She didn't feel right to stay there. She lifted her right arm and began to reach for his face but stopped, her hand flinching. Instead, her hand rested on where his right hand had just been. She had almost single-handedly destroyed their relationship. She had almost hurt him in a way he would never forgive her for. This was wrong. This was all wrong. "I'm Sorry, Gascon…," she apologized again, quietly, looking out into the room. "I… I don't think- I didn't mean to- I'm sorry." She couldn't stop saying it. She knew no amount of apology could fix what she had tried to commit.

She had almost hurt him. She hated herself for it…

He grabbed her shoulders again with less desperation. She turned her head to look at him, surprised at his lack of repulsion. "Abbie…," he began to whisper. "The thing is… I actually _do_ want this. I really do but…" He closed his eyes and looked back up at her. "Well, it doesn't help that I've actually never done this before. Call it whatever you want, but if there's one tradition that's been surprisingly easy to hold for me is… well… keeping the next in line legitimate." He raised both eyebrows and glanced to the side. He looked back at a disbelieving Abbie.

"So… what you're saying is that Swaine, the wandering rogue… Hasn't had a single romantic fling?" She almost laughed. "I guess that makes it the first time for both of us."

"Actually…," he corrected, looking up towards the headboard. "I've had past loves, believe it or not. Though, because of my lack of wealth at the time as well as a few other 'issues', things never went well."

" _'Issues'_ ," she pointedly asked. Raising an eyebrow. "I'm gathering being a master thief wasn't on their list of kinks," she snidely remarked.

"Yes. And, yes, keeping that tradition was one of them," he answered for her. He smirked up at her. "Considering how well you've accepted my flaws, however, I'm actually not worried." He sighed as he pulled her closer to him.

She didn't move. She worried at any moment he'd reject her. "I… I would have understood if you hated me… I almost-," the words were caught in her throat. She felt disgusted with herself saying it. "Why do you still want me this close to you," she whimpered.

"Because I don't have the heart to be mad at you." He smiled at her. "You were put in a _very tempting_ situation. That- and following natural urges." He lightly brushed her cheek as he looked into her frightened eyes. "You can scare me, you can anger me, and you can even maim me, but remember: I've helped save the world _twice_ \- after fifteen years of living in the gutter, mind you." He nodded as if affirming his next statement. "There's nothing you could say or do to me that would push me away- that would make me uncomfortable to keep you close."

As much as he wanted to indulge in physical pleasure, as much as he shared her desire it would have to wait. "Oh, Abbie," he breathed as she shifted so her legs laid off to the side of his. "If you could just wait until we make this work. If you could just wait until after we tell Marcassin, I promise you, I'll break tradition just so we can consummate our love, alright?"

She laughed and idly stroked his shoulder with her finger. "Can you promise me something?" He grunted softly in curious response. "Stop making promises, will you," she cooed in his ear. "You make too many- you'll tie yourself down so much that you'll lose yourself. I don't want that." She rested her head on his left shoulder. "Our love is already consummate… We'll enjoy ourselves when the time is right…" She yawned and he yawned back, causing her to giggle.

"Of course… as long as it's after we tell Marcassin…," he agreed, reminding her again of that stipulation.

"Tell me what, brother," a familiar eloquent voice suspiciously interjected from beside the bed.

"M-Marcassin," the co-emperor shouted in shock. Both Gascon and Abirose shot up, knocking both of their heads into each other. They both hissed in pain, rubbing their foreheads. Gascon leaned back on his arms as he did so.

"Owie," the Lady squeaked. She had one eye closed as she looked up. Her eyes landed on the younger, fairer black-haired brother. She leaned back, forgetting her aching temple. "Oh… Oh, no…," she moaned, grimacing at the dwindling chance of a happy future.

He raised an eyebrow at the two and crossed his arms. "Brother- Gascon… Who is this?" He looked at her clothes closely. "Surely not a harlot, considering the dress," he analyzed as he looked her over.

"A- a harlot," she exclaimed angrily, glaring at the young Great Sage. "I-m not-," she was silenced by a raised hand and a rising older brother.

"She's… urg," he began, still nursing his head. "This is Lady Abirose, Lady and Governing power of Eperlan."

Marcassin blinked as he raised a hand to motion at his odd guest, processing the information and the context of the situation. "You've found a suitor?" He tilted his head at the woman next to him. "How long has this been…" he trailed off. Something was familiar about her. He glanced towards the coffee table in thought where the deck of cards lay. He hadn't seen them out in a while, so they must have been playing a card game. When he looked back at the couple now nervously waiting for him to continue, he saw it. "You're- you're the blackjack dealer from the casino!"

She nervously laughed. "You've got me!" She rubbed the back of her head nervously before clasping her hands over her stomach. "It's an honor to meet you, your majesty." She bowed her head toward him. "I'm sorry this is the way we met."

The sage recomposed himself as he looked between his brother and the woman he had claimed. "Brother," he harshly whispered. "You're aware of how bad this looks, right?" He warily looked at the older man who now pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Very." He nodded and removed his hand as he looked up. "What prompted you to use spring lock to break into my room anyway?"

"Her voice," Marcassin simply answered. "I heard you talking and I decided to listen." He smiled at the two of them. "She must be really special for you to have fallen so hard, Gascon."

Abirose leaned over her partner's lap. "You… you don't oppose this, do you?" She blushed as she gripped the green blanket, "I mean… We've been courting for some time without anyone knowing."

The sage seemed to jump at the very notion. "Oppose? I'm not exactly sure if I even approve at this point." He looked at Gascon curiously. "You wanted to tell me first for insurance, I suppose?" When he saw the surprised face of his brother he laughed. "Please, I would think I would know my own brother's thought process." He smiled and looked at the floor. He looked back up at them. "I think it would be best if you told me from the beginning."

They exchanged grins and nodded back at Marcassin. Gascon was the first to begin, then Abirose interjected on her side of the tale. As they continued to talk, the Lady and the Mechanical Sage embraced one another, occasionally looking into each other's eyes and half chuckling at old but treasured memories. Eventually, the sage pulled the stool up from the work desk to listen to the lengthy tales of their exploits.

Gascon sighed, rubbing Abirose's back. He smiled warmly at her and she returned his affection. "And that's the end of it," he concluded, glancing at his ever-patient little brother.

Marcassin was silent for a moment and looked up. "I see…," he said cryptically after much deliberation. Silently, he got up and began to leave.

"Well then," the older brother called, his grip tightening on Abirose. "What do you say, Marcassin?"

The sage stopped and twirled around with a gleeful smile. "Why would I oppose your happiness, Gascon?" He nodded. "You'll always have my undying faith, you know that." With a short laugh, he turned and continued to depart. He stopped in the doorway and glanced back at them. "Just be careful with him. I'm trusting you with his life, Lady Abirose." He took a deep breath. "Just as you've trusted me with fixing my mistakes." With that, he left.

Gascon flopped back onto the bed, his arm over his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to laugh, escalating into a mad cackle.

She looked down at the man out of concern. "Swaine," she slowly, curiously asked. She extended a hand and rested it on his shoulder.

"We did it, Abbie!" He removed his arm and looked up at her with a wide smile and tears in his eyes. He continued to laugh emphatically, so much so that she started to laugh. "We really did it! If anyone asks, Marcassin can step in! We're free," he said through bouts of laughter. When he stopped he reached up and pulled her to him.

"Woah," she yelped as he held her tight. They rolled over towards the wall, giggling like children. This time, she found herself under him, a fresh change of pace. She stared up at the thief and he stared back. Within a fraction of a second, she found her lips brushing his once more, exchanging kisses once again freely, their cover identities completely unnecessary now.

She reached up to hold his jaw in the heat of passion, her other arm bracing the back of his neck. "Now," she asked breathlessly.

He smirked. "Now," he permitted, understanding her intentions. He would send notice of their relationship later… What the public didn't know wouldn't kill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here. Here is where I _finally_ bid you adieu. (Actually... Not really. _Again._ Cause I have a true epilogue in the works.) 
> 
> This chapter, lengthy as it was, was inspired by Snug/Whatoatmeal's last comment on Archive of Our Own. Still wanting to leave it open-ended, I felt one more thing had to be wrapped up as well as emphasizing their romance a bit. So, here's to you, Whatoatmeal! Thank you for giving this fic love!
> 
> And thank you, everyone, who has read this fic and secretly enjoyed it! Even you in the back!
> 
> (Oh, and the song _Play Me Like a Violin_ by Stephen wouldn't leave my brain, so now that's _two_ fanfics it's contributed to. That's why the title is the way it is.)
> 
> Anyway, as usual, I hope you enjoyed this. I enjoyed this. I'm proud of this fic.
> 
> If you didn't… That's fair. Tell me where I went wrong. Maybe I'll learn something and apply it to another work.
> 
> I'll see you when I see you.


	9. The True Epilogue Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied violence and other sensitive subjects regarding drinking and intimate interactions. You have been warned.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

What had begun as a simple distraction from the norm now consumed half of his life. And he was completely fine with that. He couldn't think of any other place he would rather be than by her side. As looked down at the woman leaning against him, her head near his chest, and just barely sitting on his lap, he couldn't help but smile.

Her left hand played with a strand of hair as she focused on a proposal from one of the many lands. As comfortable as she was, she wasn't quite certain what to make of this request. "Gascon," she whispered, finally looking up in defeat. "What do you think," she breathed in frustration.

He tilted his head towards the paper, quickly reading through its contents. "Honestly… they really shouldn't move forward with this. Given the type of mining operation, the type of machine they're requesting isn't suited for it." He shook his head and leaned over to grab a stack of papers from next to the one they were reading. He began to draft an amendment to it- suggesting a better option.

She relaxed as he wrote and looked up at the man. "I definitely agree," she replied, though hesitantly.

He stopped writing. Her voice spoke volumes despite her words. "You don't think so?"

"Well… Actually. I don't think they should go through with it at all- mine in another location. We've seen this mine before in another proposal for more support." She leaned forward and tapped the land's name on the top of the page. She then pointed at the area the mine was described in. "It's not structurally sound and probably would cause more harm to the miners."

He leaned back and looked at the document. He smirked as he took his left arm from off of the back of the couch to lightly embrace her. "You're absolutely right." He pulled her closer to him. "I'm glad to have such intellect at my side."

"Hush, you," she prodded, tapping him on the nose. "You could have made that decision yourself."

"Oh? I doubt so," he shot back. "I haven't been out of the palace in days. I don't know what it's like out there." He let his head rest on hers as she leaned closer to him.

She had been crowned a princess to signify her union with Gascon. While she maintained that title, it kept things from getting tricky as decisions went. Rather, her choices were more to aid her companion as his second in command- his most trusted advisor.

The ceremony had been short, but grand. As with the royal procession, the people came out to see this newly selected partner to the throne- their new princess. Among them were the great sages, the rulers, and even some of the staff from the Crypt Casino. She swore she saw the Pit Boss and Boris crying despite them being skeletons.

Even Maria, her former caretaker joined in the ceremony. She couldn't stop gushing over how happy she was to see that she had "found love" and that she "fell in love with royalty after all"- all to which the former Lady of Eperlan rolled her eyes. It wasn't purposeful. They found each other by chance. No one, not even the Great Sage- who was equally as enthused and proud- expected it.

And after…? She attended meetings with her partner sometimes. Sometimes she held meetings when he was busy, representing Gascon. Sometimes they would work separately on projects, sometimes together. Sometimes, she was away, visiting her home to check up on it. Sometimes, if she couldn't bear to leave his side, he would send someone there or go there himself.

He had found a mysterious note on his work desk one evening. "Hold on, what's this," he asked aloud.  _"To Swaine, Miss you. Love, Abbie,"_  it read. He felt his face slightly heat up and a wide fond smile formed upon reading the simple love note. He cleared his throat and quickly turned it to see if there was any more writing. It was blank on the other side.

He turned to his love, sitting on the couch peering over a book that rested on the coffee table. She had found it in the throne room and had asked the younger ruler if she could borrow it out of curiosity. "Abirose, what's this?" He held it up to show her.

She looked up from the book, holding her arms across her stomach. "Er… I wrote that while you were in a meeting today. There was nothing left on my schedule and…" She took a quick glance back down at the book, but not to read it. "Well… I missed you."

"The meeting was only an hour or so. You saw me right after." He held the note in front of his face, hiding the smirk he had. "I was still here, Abirose."

"Well… is it too late to say there are more than just that one," she squeaked. Leaning forward and stealing nervous glances at Gascon. "I've written them every morning since we became officially united, hoping you'd eventually find them during the day at your work desk. That's the first one you've found, I believe- you always seem to hide them by putting plans or paperwork on top of them."

He remained silent as he thought of this revelation. He rubbed the back of his head as his smile grew on his face again.

"I- I can stop if it bothers you." She reached up and nervously twirled a strand of hair in her bangs and held herself tighter. She looked down at the floor.

He caught this anxious series of actions as he lowered the paper to look at her. He softly smiled as he returned to his desk. "Just a moment." He flipped the page over and began to write. When he was finished he folded it and picked it up again. He turned around. "Here. For you, you silly little flower," he joked with a loving smile as he dropped the note onto the book.

She reached over and picked it up. On one side, it was what she had written. On the other…  _"To Abbie, Love you. Miss you. Swaine."_  She lowered the hand that was twirling the hair to her mouth with tears in her eyes. "Gascon," she gasped.

He put his left hand on his hip and leaned nonchalantly over to the side. "We can do this every day: you write the note in the morning, and I'll respond in the evening." He sat next to her at watched her. "We can make a thing of it!"

"A-are you sure," she wondered, turning her head to face him. "You're not bothered by this?"

He scoffed as he tilted his head incredulously despite his confident smile. "It's flipping adorable, Abbie." He shrugged. "There is no way in hell I'd be put off by you writing love notes to me because you miss me." He scoffed. "I dare say it would be worse if I was." He was soon tackled by her and assailed with a short but passionate kiss.

"You're such a card, Swaine," she claimed as she leaned away from him. She smiled as she rubbed tears from the corners of her eyes.

He chuckled. "Don't you mean I'm such a  _cad_?" He smugly, widely, grinned at her.

Her smile fell in mock distaste. "Swaine," she began.

"Yes, dear," he said as his cheeky grin persisted.

She raised her index finger at him. "I'm going to ask of you one solitary thing."

"Oh? And what's that," his grin had dissolved into a smirk. He leaned against the arm of the couch.

"Never make that joke or one like it ever again," she ordered with a warning smile, lightly pushing him. He couldn't tell if she was serious, but chances were, she wasn't. There'd be many more jokes like that made over the course of their lives, and both of them knew it.

"What's wrong, am I  _robbing_  you of your joy? Did I  _steal_  your happiness with that one jo-," he began to insist before being hit in the face with a decorative sofa pillow. He remained momentarily stunned, his hands clenched ever so slightly in shock.

"Yes," she answered with a giggle at the look on his face. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, breathing motion back into the eldest ruler. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "But I love it anyway." She nuzzled his shoulder when he finally relaxed and wrapped his arms around her.

They would argue at times but usually ended them civilly- with joking or discussion. Sometimes, they worked them out over Blackjack at the end of the day. They made a point to play it every evening- it kept them from going to bed angry at each other. It kept them from going insane over the amount of work that needed to be done.

At times they'd even bet on more risqué moments in the future. Who would do what to the other? It got kind of out of hand sometimes- eventually calling off the whole "altercation" as they dubbed it because of how insane or dangerous some of them were.

There were even instances where they had played drunk. They warned the servants and even Marcassin for their own safety.

Or rather it was more for Gascon's safety. Abirose did not hold alcohol well despite her previous occupation. It was Gascon himself that could drink heavily and be otherwise unaffected. It was as if restraint no longer seemed to function as a piece of heart and the substance even worked to block out her memory.

On top of all this, she grew quite feisty under the influence, a trait that the man learned to fear after one intimate near-death experience. He had to remind her of it by showing her the scars.

"Swaaaaine," she drawled as she constantly tried to release herself from his hold. He was keeping her arms pinned to her sides as she leaned on him, her chest on his. As much as he was aroused by this, he focused on her, on her eyes, keeping his intentions clear. Her eyes were bleary and unfocused. "I want  _iiiit_ ," she cried. "Give it to me! Pleeease," she whined.

"Abbie. No," he denied her. "I didn't get these scars on my neck from a fight with a beast, you know." He craned his head up to show her. "They had to pull you off of me, damn it," he bit back. He especially remembered because he ended up sleeping in their bed without covers that night- because he had given them to her. He remembered missing her warmth terribly. He remembered her laying on the ground next to the bed, passed out from a tranquilizing pellet he had to slip her to help the servants and guards detain her.

He remembered talking the guards down on taking her to the dungeon for the night for his safety. He swore he'd never let that become something to drive them apart. She wasn't aware. She didn't know what she was doing. He remembered her sobbing in his arms despite the hangover she had about how badly she felt about it- about losing herself and getting too rough in the heat of passion. He remembered her apologizing profusely about it.

He remembered kissing her, holding her. He remembered telling her that it was alright. That next time they decided to drink and play any type of card game- be it Blackjack or Platoon- after a particularly rough day, they'd sleep in different places. Even if they slept together, after all, they'd take care not to let it happen again.

He was fortunate that the scars from the scratches were so memorable in her mind that she stopped in her tracks. She looked down at the red shirt under the dark green cape he wore. "I'll… I'll be gentle this time."

"No, Abbie. Please. You could kill me." He sighed and looked at the scattered mess of cards lying on the coffee table. He picked up a piece of paper that held the previous scores from underneath the clutter. He grabbed a charcoal pencil and began to write. "I want to make sure you remember  _every_  time. I can only do that if you're not drunk and I'm still alive, see?" He wrote those exact words onto the paper, folding it when he finished. He managed to tuck it into her sash on her dress. "It's not as fun when you can't remember what happened, is it?" His grip on her arms loosened and he let her get closer. He knew she wouldn't remember this. It wouldn't be right of him to take advantage of her, to take something they did so rarely and ruin it.

He leaned back on the sofa, holding her now slowly passing out delirious form close. He started to pass out as well, the slightly spiked wine taking effect on both of their systems- a system they had both set-in-place since the incident. "Good night, my beautiful rose," he whispered, only receiving a hum of content comfort from the inebriated Abbie.

When they awoke the next morning, they would both hopefully still be alive. They would eat the breakfast the servants brought. Abbie would complain of not only a hangover but of the former thief's eating habits- a common occurrence. She would then put some of her leftovers into his plate.

"Hey," he almost shouted. He stared down at the small portion of egg and sausage piled on top of the little portions of bread, cheese, and ham steak he had taken from the platter. "Abbie. I'm a grown man. I think I know my eating limitations." He gruffly sighed and picked up a fork full of egg anyway.

"You're wasting away, Swaine." She pulled the note from the night before and quickly glanced through it. "If I don't kill you, you will."

He didn't respond. She was right, in a way. He had a tendency to underfeed himself. He felt lucky that she enjoyed much of the same food he did. Eventually, he stopped reacting and simply continued to eat, letting her control this one aspect of his life- letting her take care of him in that one tiny way.

And they continued like that. All was well between them. They each managed what they could for the empire- Gascon lightening the burden for his younger brother and Abirose lifting some of that burden off of the elder brother's shoulders.

Then one day… Everything changed. It started in the morning. They were eating their usual meals, though Abbie seemed to be lightly picking at it rather than devouring it as she usually did. She didn't even shove some off onto his plate and go in for seconds. When he noticed this, he leaned closer to her.

She had been repeating this strange behavior for a few weeks, now. It greatly concerned him- it wasn't the girl he knew. "Are you… alright, Abirose," he asked her with a concerned eyebrow raised. He glanced down at the plate then back at her face.

"I'm fine," she softly said. "I just… don't feel like eating right now." She slowly, subtly shook her head back and forth before setting the plate down.

"You aren't ill, are you," he prodded more. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

She stiffened up and she glared at him. "I'm fine, Gascon," she growled out.

His hand tensed up at her agitation, but he didn't let go. "No, Abbie. There's something wrong. Tell me."

She stood up, tearing her shoulder out of his grip. "You can't do anything about it," she snapped. "Why do you always have to be so doting, Gascon?! I can handle myself!" She bared her teeth. It was always at the first sign of a problem did he get so concerned. In her irrational state, she briefly was reminded of her former life in Eperlan.

Doting… That word never matched up with his own actions to him. She had been ill a couple of times in the past year but even when he wanted to stay by her side, he had duties to perform. There were even times when she managed her ailments quite well with what medications the servants left. "I'm not trying to be," he snarled from his seat. "You just haven't been acting like yourself, is all."

"Haven't I," she shouted. Her hands balled up into fists. "Who are you to say what's normal for me?"

"Who am I to- Abbie, we've been living together for  _two_  years! I'd recognize a change in behavior in you when I see it, wouldn't I?!" He got up and looked her over. She didn't seem pale. She seemed pretty well nourished, in fact. The only give away of her condition was this sudden lack of appetite and irrational anger. This went beyond what he was used to seeing from her- even in certain times of the month. "Abbie, you're not yourself." And it wasn't heartbreak either. That issue could hopefully never arise again in their lifetime.

He grabbed her arms and stared into her eyes. "What is it? Tell me, please," he pleaded.

She groaned in frustration as she pushed him away. "I said there's nothing you can do!" She continued to scowl at him. He always seemed to have the answer for everything, didn't he?

He attempted to get close to her again, albeit as slowly and cautiously as he could. "You… You don't know that," he whispered. "If you could just tell me… Perhaps there's a way- some way- to help you."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. When she saw that he had closed the space she had made between them, she shoved him even harder- pushing him further away. "Just leave me alone, Swaine! I don't need you right now," she demanded, stamping her right foot.

"Abbie- I-," he stammered, reaching out to her. They had never fought like this. What was wrong with her? "Abbie… Why are you acting like this," he questioned her. She wasn't one to get so physically angry. She had turned away to look at the food arrangement the servants had laid out on the coffee table. "What if it's something serious…? I need you." He patted his chest. He held his hands out to his sides as an invitation, as a sign of defeat. "Please… Abbie… If not for your sake, tell me for mine."

"Just…," she began. She looked up, the anger still ablaze in her eyes. She stomped toward him and slapped him. "Let me be! You can't fix everything! Some things you really shouldn't try to fix, Gascon!" When she saw the hurt look on his face, she backed away and held her left arm. "Just leave me alone, Swaine. I… need to be alone." She looked at the wall, avoiding the awestruck gaze of her lover.

He looked down with his hand on his jaw. When he looked up, he gave a short, curt nod. He turned around and walked to the door, leaving her behind.

He had prepared to maintain regular royal responsibility but changed his mind. Even without his disguise dawned to keep undue attention away from him, he left the palace. If she wanted to be alone, so be it.

Not long after he left, she collapsed to the ground. "Gascon… Why did I do that," she cried out. She clutched the area just under her chest.

She had looked back on her own symptoms when they were drowsily laying in bed together- not yet ready to start the day. Her appetite had been declining- the very issue that started the whole situation. Rather, she had been sneaking different types of food from the kitchen for her breakfast, as of late. Whatever they served for their daily breakfast didn't match her current tastes. Earlier in the week, she had felt nauseous…

It had frightened her. The possibility that her life was about to change yet again. She had gotten used to it just being the two of them. Now… Did she want this change? Did she want him to…  _fix_  this? Was it something she wanted him to fix…?

She looked down at her abdomen. A small fond smile began to form despite her worry. She wondered how he'd react to such a development. No matter what, there'd be no fixing this "problem". She just wished she hadn't driven him away. She stood up and walked over to the work desk. She wrote the usual note, plus one other thing.

_"No matter what, Gascon, I'll always need you… I'm sorry."_

He sat on top of an old piece of mining equipment that still somehow towered over Hamelin itself. He supposed it helped that the city was nestled so far deep beneath the earth and that the structure was on top of a small hill. He sat in silent thought, puzzling over what her ailment could be. If it was an ailment. This just made him wonder if he had done something wrong to make her feel so irate towards him. Was he missing something important?

His concentration broke when he heard a grunt and felt a rush of air. The only other magic user besides his significant other was his brother. Surely, she couldn't be bothered to chase after him after demanding to be alone. Abbie, as crazy as she was, was just as stubborn as he could be. That only left one other person.

"Hello, brother," he greeted tiredly.

"Gascon," the younger ruler returned. "I thought you'd be up here."

"And you found me… how? I could have been anywhere in Hamelin, you know." He turned his head towards Marcassin.

He joined him on the edge of the platform. "I recall you heading up here after some rather intense arguments with father."

"Is that so?" He didn't face him. "Spoke with Abbie, did you," he accused.

"No, but considering how morose she was when I went to find you, I figured something had happened." He tilted his head to the side, as he glanced at the lanky man next to him. "Do you wish to discuss it?"

Gascon shook his head in response. "No. We'll work it out."

"So, it was an argument…?"

The older man sighed. He went silent for a few minutes. He turned his head to look at his younger brother. "Don't you have a meeting to attend?"

"We were supposed to attend a rather important one today, remember," he reminded him, a slight harshness to his tone.

At that, Gascon's eyes widened. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I'm failing on all fronts, aren't I, Marcassin?"

The younger brother sighed as he observed the man's anguished state. "Not to worry. Hogarth is attending in our stead. I'll have to thank him graciously later." He placed a hand on his brother's hunched shoulder. "I have time. When you're ready to talk…," he breathed.

The emperor eventually lifted his head and stared down at his hands. "It's just… she's never been that angry with me. Never to the point of shoving me away or even slapping me…"

"Er… If I recall, she slapped you the first time you kissed," the youngest sage pointed out.

"This was different, Marcassin. This is… odd for me to see. Last time- it made sense. I kind of expected her to hit me." He pulled at locks of hair. "What is it, Marcassin? What did I do?"

"Hmm." Marcassin looked down. "What do you suppose she was so angry about?"

He raised his hands in frustration, leaning back momentarily. "I haven't the slightest clue," he shouted, the sound resonating through the mountains behind Hamelin. "She said she didn't want me  _doting_  on her just because I noticed a lack of appetite and that she seemed more off than usual." He jerked his head towards Hamelin. "I just want her to be happy and healthy. I promised myself that I wouldn't let her down." He seemed to hunch even worse. "I know it sounds like I probably smother her, but believe me… I don't. She's been ill before and I give her plenty of space to recover... She does the same."

"But you also take care of each other, do you not," the younger brother observed. "I've seen her sit by your side before, Gascon."

He nodded. "Indeed. We've both done that." He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "So it can't be that I'm too 'doting' as she puts it."

Silence prevailed them yet again. His shoulders heaved as his head hung low. He gritted his teeth.

The sage replaced his hand on his older brother's shoulders. "I know it won't sound like much. After all, I've never been in your place, Gascon." He stopped to think. How could he put this…? "I… I don't think this is the end for you and Abbie, brother." He gripped the cape slightly with the pads of his finger-tips. "She may be abrupt, but she's kind. I have never once seen her truly hate anyone thus far…"

"She hated you…," the man rasped. "For a time, anyway." He smirked. "Of course, you know that already, don't you? I believe we discussed this when you and her first met."

Marcassin nodded. "Ah, yes… But now she's one of the kindest souls I've come to know. Unruly in some senses, but I've become quite used to that." He would have nudged Gascon if it weren't for being up so high. He sighed as he looked down at Hamelin. "To see you this distraught- it pains me… but I know…" He looked back at the suffering man. "I know how much you care for each other despite all odds. Whatever it is, I hope you will find the courage and resolve to get through it as you have in the past."

He let his hand fall, a sad smile on his face. "And Abirose. Dear Princess Abirose. I hope she is well." He looked back at the prone figure next to him. "I fear what would become of you. I fear what may become of her."

Gascon raised his head, still staring at the distant ground beneath him. "Do you know what it is…," he wondered.

The sage looked to the sky at that. "I have my suspicions, but they are inconclusive…," he answered. He shook his head. "I believe it would be better to ask her, herself."

He gave a discomforted grunt and looked over at Hamelin. "Tonight… I'll ask her before we go to sleep." He winced before looking back at his younger brother. "What if… What if there really is nothing I can do?"

The sage pursed his lips in thought as he stared the magenta line of the man's cloak. "I cannot say for sure." He met his brother's eyes. "However, I believe…" He smiled at the emperor thief. "…In your bond with her." He nodded. "You will figure something out for sure." He looked back at the capital of their empire.

They sat there for a while. Eventually, Marcassin made his leave, the eldest ruler promising to be back soon. He worried for Abirose. He wondered how horrible she had probably felt about it. He hoped his brother was right, that the two of them could get through it. He didn't even know what it was, and it frightened him.

She lay in bed, thinking about what she had done that morning. She felt guilty somehow- as if she had gone too far. She had realized she never explained what she was so mad about. It really wasn't about anything other than fear. So she lashed out on him. She still loved him… She knew all he was trying to do was to help. She knew he wasn't trying to baby her. She knew he was just looking out for his own. But she pushed him away. She was frightened. She was confused. She didn't know what to expect when he found out.

Would he hate her? He had always said he was uncertain about this particular situation. They never discussed it at length… He always kind of avoided the topic as if it were something he'd rather not think about.

…Would he leave her, or rather, have her power and title removed? Would he resent this…?

Would he be happy with this…?

She breathed a shaky breath. In her fretfulness that day, she had looked over an extensive amount of land agreements, trade disputes, and requests for support. She augmented, passed, or denied them all. She organized the bookshelf in their chambers. She neatly organized her own wardrobe. She walked around the palace. She played Blackjack with herself. All to manage the stress of the issue.

It only buried the feeling. When she laid down for the evening she felt it strike her again. He wasn't back yet. Perhaps he was repeating his youth and running away- if he had figured her secret out. She wondered if he would truly do that… A part of her resisted her fears of rejection, but her terror, especially after blowing up so badly that morning, was too strong to reign in.

Now she laid there in her thoughts, breathing in the familiar scent of the man she worried would abandon her now. It was a test of their love- this situation. She wondered if they would pass.

Her eyes widened when she felt the familiar feel of a tall, thin, man add himself to the bed. He moved slowly and carefully towards her. He kept his distance in case that was what she needed.

"…Abbie…," he softly whispered. "I… I'm sorry… for… Whatever I did."

"Swaine. It isn't you… it's me…" She clutched the pillow she had pressed to her torso tighter.

"Famous last words," he jested in an even quieter whisper. He shook his head. Now was not the time for jokes. "Abbie… Can you please tell me…? If you're comfortable with it?"

She wasn't. She didn't know if she would ever be. Not until he knew, that was. "I wonder," she began, her nervousness quieting her voice and even adding a slight tremor to her words. "What kind of parents would we be?" She laughed nervously. "Do we even want kids, Gascon…?"

Where was she going with this…? He felt a cold sweat run down his back. "I- I wouldn't mind kids. Though…," he scratched his cheek. "I can't say I'd be much of a father."

She hummed in response. She already knew his thoughts on the matter. She already knew he had experience with dealing with two teens for months… Would he really be up to the task of fully raising a child?

It stressed her out beyond compare. She needed comfort. She needed him. "Come closer, Gascon… Please," she requested. "I've missed you terribly so, today." She released the pillow she had been clutching. When he cautiously obliged, she waited for him to embrace her. "G-Gascon," she stammered after minutes without the expected action. Her anxiety began to rise at what she thought it probably meant... "P-please. Hold me."

He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder. He made sure not to grip her tightly in the instance she changed her mind. He closed his eyes. They quickly flickered back open when she moved his hand to her waist, just over her belly. He felt her shake out of fear and stress so, he held onto her tighter. "I'm sorry," he soothed. "I shouldn't have left you alone all day. I should have come back sooner."

"Where were you…?"

"Not far… Just outside of Hamelin. I spent the whole day thinking about this morning…" He shook his head, nuzzling her hair. "I kept trying to figure out what it was all about."

She heaved a heavy sigh. She worked up the nerve to ask him. "How would you react if…" She swallowed. "I said I was in a family way… if I said I was with child…" She felt her entire body go cold from sheer adrenaline and stress. She braced herself for anger, rage… and rejection- even if she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

He began to process her question. As he thought, he felt her smaller hand lightly rub the back of his. He looked down at the placement of it. Then it clicked. He tightened his grip on her by taking his left arm and awkwardly wrapping it around her left shoulder, his hand resting on her right shoulder blade. "Abbie…," he moaned softly into her hair.

"You- you don't  _hate_  me… do you," she whimpered. "I… I didn't choose to be this way." She placed a hand on his right arm, lightly squeezing it out of fright. "I don't want you to hate me."

"No… Never," he breathed into her hair.

"You're not angry," she asked him. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't plan on- I'm sorry."

"As am I." He loosened his right arm and rubbed her stomach gently. "I did this to you."

"Gascon. Please… I don't want you to be sorry for this… I don't want you to throw me out over this," she begged him. "You never said you wanted kids… and I- I-!"

He hated that she felt this way about him. It hurt to hear that she even considered the idea that he would be so cruel. "I don't want you to fear me." He let go of her. He climbed over her. He pulled her close once more, looking at her weeping mess of a face. "This was bound to happen, Abirose." He glanced down with his eyes at her waist then back at her face.

"What I'm sorry for- no. What I'm hurt about is that you thought that low of me- that I'd just abandon you for it." He scoffed. "Firstly, it wouldn't help our children at all. In fact, I'm sure I'd love them dearly. They're  _ours_ , after all, and they come from  _you_." He pressed his forehead into hers. "Secondly, I couldn't live with myself after breaking some  _very important promises_."

She looked down, her lips quivering. "I… Was also worried that you thought I might have been…," she started to say.

He picked up on her meaning. "Have you…," he cautiously, earnestly asked.

She shook her head adamantly. "No. You're the only man I've ever loved," she answered, sniffling. "W-why? Do you suspect me?" She reached out and gripped his left side tightly with her right hand. "I swear that I haven't. I wouldn't do that to you," she cried out to him, feebly shaking him.

He hushed her, unhooking his hand from around her shoulders brushing some stray hairs from her face. "Okay, okay! I believe you, Abbie."

She went silent and looked away. "I should be fair and ask of you the same, shouldn't I," she wondered, her voice still shaky. She couldn't follow through with it- the stress she had from before on top of even the idea of that pushing her into a broken mess once more.

"Abbie… You are one of the most important people I've ever had the pleasure of sharing my life with," he breathed. He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You're also the only woman I've ever loved so passionately. It'd be one of the most regrettable mistakes I could ever make." She locked eyes with him. A faint hint of a smile started to show on her downturned lips.

He gave her a reassuring grin. "I'm frightened about this, believe me." He kissed her forehead. "I am also proud of it!" He shrugged before he kissed her lips lightly. "I meant it when I said there's nothing you could say or do to me that would ever stop me from loving you, my rose."

She gave a weak smile. "S-Swaine…" She reached over and caressed his cheek. "I don't want you to ever regret this."

He moved a few more stray hairs out of her face. "Why would I?"

She looked down. "You've dealt with two kids before….," she reminded him. "They can be… quite the handful from what I've seen in my part of the empire." She giggled, recalling the early days of her childhood. "I was a kid once, too. As were you, my king."

At that giggle, he smiled. She was back to her cheery self. "I am aware of this," he reminded her, his grin becoming cheekier. "Even after years of dealing with me, you've retained your youthful demeanor." He rolled his eyes. "You'd definitely be the fun parent out of the two of us."

"I sincerely doubt that," she denied, looking up at the headboard with her eyes. She closed them. "I think… I'll change when this is all through. It just seems like the hand I'd be dealt."

"Don't push your luck too far," he warned, his face going straight. "You might 'get your maths wrong'," he joked, coining a phrase he had heard her say every now and again when they played.

"Yeah… You're right…," she breathed.

He blinked as he recalled what she had said. "Am I really the only man you've ever loved," he asked her.

She choked on a laugh. "Why? Does that seem impossible for a blackjack dealer to not find someone before you?"

He looked off to the side. "It does seem pretty farfetched- but then again, I've been around the block and managed to stay out of trouble, so…" He shrugged. "I guess it makes it even more special for you, then, to get so lucky on the first try." He chuckled to himself.

She supposed he had a point. She leaned forward and locked lips with him, savoring their strengthened bond yet again briefly. "I love you, you stupid old thief."

He laughed as he rubbed his forehead against hers once again, nuzzling her. "And I love you, you headstrong blackjack witch." They laid there in silence, enjoying the peace after a long, stressful day.


	10. The True Epilogue Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He felt the same euphoria- the same passion- he felt when he had first realized his feelings for her when he woke up to the sound of her breathing against his own chest. It persisted throughout their relationship.

When she woke up and she sleepily called his name, a hand rubbing an eye, he couldn't help but smile. He would wish her good morning, and she would wish him back. They would lazily lay there for a while.

Sometimes, the co-emperor would drift back off to sleep, snoring away. After a few minutes of which, she'd wake him up by pushing the tip of his nose up to resemble a pig's. He'd stare in slight annoyance yet amusement as she imitated the mascot of their country, giggling between snorts.

"Having fun, are we," he asked one time, staring past his pushed-up snout.

"Well, we  _are_  Hamelin pigs. We really don't ever stop working," she jested.

"Correction, dear Abbie-  _I'm_  the Hamelin pig. You've had the luxury of relaxing and taking it easy." He smirked at this knowledge.

"Oh- but I can never just sit still! I always end up  _doing_ something," she complained, withdrawing her hand.

By this point, they had had this argument a dozen times. He was on the verge of giving up. "Whatever you wish. I wish I knew where all this energy was coming from," he permitted. He often wagered that she was simply excited most of the time… Or perhaps it was just a mood swing?

She would sometimes become quite irate for no reason at times. Other times she would be going about her business, then suddenly crying. At first, he questioned her to see if there was anything he could do but soon found that all he  _could_  do was wait it out and comfort her. Or in the case she was angry, just silently support her at her side.

Despite these odd instances, when she  _was_ feeling like herself, she felt the familiar feeling of warmth and gratitude invade her whenever he excitedly made preparations for their future heir. He had gone all the way to Eperlan in order to get her old toys. And just after that, he went and dug his old baby toys out of storage.

His brother insisted on having new toys made for them, but the soon to be father rejected the idea constantly. "I want our child to be resourceful. I don't think pampering is the way to go with this, Marcassin," he lectured his younger brother.

"Some of these  _do_  look like they're falling apart," Abbie noticed as she lifted an ancient looking simple pull-along train set. It seemed to be slightly rusted from the age. There were even some wooden alphabet blocks- though it looked like much of them had gone missing. The remaining few had some telling bite marks on them. She raised an eyebrow at her partner.

Marcassin pulled a metal rattle from Abirose's set, it seemed to suffer from the ailments from the train and the wooden blocks combined. "I believe we could still have better," he groaned and reached for his wand. "I suppose I  _could_  use Rejuvenate, but given the pauper style you intend to have for the sake of tradition…"

He looked at the toys they had selected to scrutinize and crossed his arms. " _Fine_ ," he caved.

He grabbed one toy out of the box labeled, "Gascon"- an aquamarine stuffed pig made out of a soft, fluffy material. It was permanently set in a sitting position, looking face forward. It had no mouth. It was wearing a simple black vest with no buttons to limit choking hazards. It seemed its left ear had been gnawed on by something- enough that the material had gone bald in a semi-straight line.

"But we're at least giving them Mr. Hogglesworth," he demanded, looking at the pig with a slight defiant smirk.

Abbie let out a giggle. "Hogglesworth. Did you name it, Swaine?" She sat down as she commented on the name.

Gascon shook his head. "That was actually my father's doing. The name stuck." He shrugged. "I forgot how goofy our old man could be when he wasn't running the kingdom or lecturing me." He absentmindedly rubbed the bald spot on the ear. There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"Are you sure it is wise to give it to an infant, Gascon? It  _is_  a valuable treasure," Marcassin wondered, holding his chin.

At that, the former blackjack dealer shrugged. "I'm giving them my old orange stuffed bear." She held it up. It looked even worse for wear than the pig. The seams seemed to be slightly pulling apart and the embroidered eyes were beginning to fray.

The mage raised an eyebrow at both of them. "It may not survive…"

"I'm sure you've already reasoned this, but if it does survive, that makes it all the more valuable, Marcassin." Swaine looked up from the stuffed pig. "I enjoy the idea of keeping father alive through this," he said with a sly grin. "After all, he  _was_  the one to give it to me."

"I concur," Abirose replied. "I feel the same with my stuffed bear. Or as I called her, Rosie." She shook the bear in question, eventually resting it on her belly. It lacked the posture of the better put together Hogglesworth, but it still seemed fairly solid to her. It wasn't super soft, but it was rather squishy and huggable for a baby. She flapped an arm as she fondly recalled her toddler days. "She needs some reinforcement, but she'll do." She looked up at the two brothers. "Don't you think, you two?"

The two men exchanged looks and the sage nodded at her. "I'll take it to the royal tailor. They will take care of it." He walked over and had her hand it to him. "And  _then_ , Gascon," he began, his voice firm and warning. "We'll get you two some proper baby toys." He flashed an almost innocent smile before leaving.

He felt the excitement of his life-changing, warping around hers and giving him even more of a purpose to continue on. Even on days when he was down, she was always there to cheer him up.

The excitement and nervousness rose when he was informed of the possibility of not one child, but two. It was hard to tell, according to the royal physician that checked on her, but he thought he had heard two heartbeats, beating at once when he listened to her stomach with a stethoscope.

"Gascon, you  _do_  remember you have servants…," she reminded the pacing royal. She sometimes wondered if he forgot. He tended to try and get everything done himself, even if he did call on servants to aid his reign.

He shook his head. "I can have all the servants in the world, but in the end, these kids are  _my_  responsibility." He flew a hand up in the air. "I'm their guardian- their  _father_!" He finally stopped in front of her, a panicked look on his face. "Two kids, Abbie?! I can barely keep track of the empire as it is!"

"Gascon, it's alright." She breathed. "You have me, remember? We're doing this together." She pulled herself up from the stool in front of the workbench. She took his hand. "We can do it, Swaine," she reassured him, looking up at his slightly disheveled appearance. "We'll figure it out." At the slightly less frantic look on his face, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

He stopped worrying so much after that. He had complete faith in her. It was all it took. Sometimes he wondered if she was the one in control of the relationship. He dropped that train of thought each time he looked at her and how much she truly needed him. Both of them were in control- were equals.

It wasn't long until it finally happened. Two boys were brought into the world, both of varying weights and looks. One looked slightly thinner than the other. Despite the hours of pain, despite everything, the former Lady of Eperlan survived to see what they had made.

_Well, this is going to be interesting,_ he had thought as soon as he saw them. Nevertheless, he felt a sense of fatherly pride swell inside him. These were his- no, _their_  kids. He had played a part in their existence. So, had the woman who held both in her arms in their bed, cleaned and well rested from the ordeal a day and a half later.

He had given a short laugh. "They're just as cute as their mother," he half-joked. "I hope I can be a better father to them than mine was to me," he admitted through a blush and a smile. "Sometimes he was hardly there."

"Was that what you were worried about each time I brought this up," she said as she looked up from one of them.

He scratched the back of his head as he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked out to the work desk. "Yeah… Looking back on it, I was kind of a brat. A lot of that might have been my fault." He looked back at her and reached for the baby closest to him- the largest one-, holding out a finger. When he grabbed it, the elder emperor felt that excitement and pride wash through him all over again. "Both of us could have handled it better… But I promise… It'll be different. _This_ will be different."

He would always feel that pride in them, and she would always adore them. They never attempted to separate the two newly recognized princes of Hamelin. Every time they were apart, the two would fuss. They tended to sleep with their backs to each other, even when they napped with their mother as infants.

It worried them slightly, especially Gascon. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened to him and Marcassin. He didn't want either of them to end up like him. They would often take the toddlers away from each other when they were slightly older so they could get used to being apart.

They would be safe as long as they stayed in the palace… Though, he supposed, that they could learn a thing or two from having to fend for themselves in the future. What was the point in them being alive if they never got to go out and live?

Which, they often had as they grew up. The oldest emperor insisted on Abirose taking them to Eperlan to get out of the palace more. He wanted them to have the life of normal children- as normal as they could be. He wanted them to grow up knowing what it was like for people who weren't royalty.

Whenever they went to Eperlan, Abbie would make sure that they were looked after similar to the way Maria had- who had taught  _her_  how to manage a home as a child. And when she got out into the world, that's when she would climb and fool around with the lower-class kids.

One of their boys was exactly like that, in fact. At the age of six, the smallest of the two- the one with the curlier hair- often found himself playing small games with the other kids his age in the area. The larger of the two watched on quietly. He'd correct his brother and even question him if he was about to do something that… didn't seem like a good idea- even to a six-year-old.

It was also there, they would figure themselves out- learn to cope with being separated. They were still brothers, but it didn't mean they had to stick together all the time. They especially learned that when they had their first sibling argument at the age of eight and decided not to speak to each other for a few hours. One eventually found it hard and left the room.

The smallest of the two was just as energetic and rough as his mother but seemed to have the stubborn streak of their father. He also never thought things through entirely, which landed him in a great deal of trouble- often getting his brother into it as well

The larger of the two, the one with straight dark brown hair, was the thinker and observer. He tended to be rather brave and strong-willed- his smaller counterpart inheriting his father's slightly more cowardly tendencies. Despite this, the larger was lazier. He was more of an observer than a doer at times. The situation had to be dire to spur him into action.

And while both of them displayed a small degree of magical talent of varying amount, it didn't seem either would amount to filling the role of Great Sage anytime soon. That was fine- as Hamelin had other means of defense without one.

They  _were_  taught how to wield a sword, though. Both their mother and father pushed them into it, much to the smallest's chagrin. The boy even mocked the lessons as "dance lessons". Even so, the machine-minded emperor constantly enforced the idea that they'd need it someday- even if the stances they used were in tandem with another weapon.

They fought. They argued. They beat each other up. They were siblings. The two would often find themselves in front of their father, mother, or uncle being reprimanded for their actions. Despite all this, they'd have each other's backs as brothers- as their father and uncle before them.

Gascon and Abirose would often smile into the bedroom their sons inhabited- the mechanical sage's old room as a child acting as the room that they grew up knowing- and watch as they slept in an exhausted dogpile on the floor.

"You think we should give them a blanket," Abbie wondered, leaning on the father of their kids. She let her focus fall on the stuffed bear clutched by the sleeping ruffian twin.

He looked on at the two pre-teens. "Nah. They'll be fine." He shrugged. "Trust me… They'll keep each other warm." He saw the old stuffed pig, that one bald spot on the ear slightly larger thanks to the quieter of the two, being held close by that same prince.

She let out a giggle. "They do seem pretty comfortable...," she added.

"Heh. Yeah," he stated, looking down at her. He looked back at the two brothers. "I can't believe how big they've gotten. They were so small…"

"That's how kids work, Swaine," she reminded him with hushed laughter. She stood straight and turned around to leave. "We should let them be."

He nodded in agreement and, not before taking one last look for the night at the snoring pile, he reached over and closed the door. "Goodnight, you two," he whispered with a comforting grin.

At some point… it came time for their sons to take their separate paths. The rowdier of the two decided he would attempt to manage his mother's hometown- as it seemed the most laid back, not to mention that he knew everything there. The quieter of them had his sights set on the throne- his mind geared more towards the analytical and technical side of things more than his brother. The fact that they had both come to such conclusions themselves had pleased the eldest emperor. In fact, it more than pleased him- he never felt so proud of anything before in his life!

They were still managing the kingdom just fine, but Gascon was starting to feel his age- it had been almost twenty years since the two boys were born. He was forty when he first held one of them in his arms. Nevertheless, he had managed to avoid a repeat of the past.

"Have at it…," he told them. "But remember what you've been taught all these years. Those history lessons weren't for nothing," he reminded them.

"Don't forget about everything else your father is failing to point out," she jabbed, elbowing the man in the side.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed nonchalantly. "Don't forget the familiars we gave you."

"Gascon," she warned, still smiling.

"And don't forget to not be too good," he reminded them. He received an even harder nudge. He chuckled. "And remember that stealing is only right when it's from beasts (I learned that from Esther.)"

"Swaine," she blurted out, hitting him on the back of the head. "You  _know_  what I mean."

The man rubbed the back of his head. "Ouch," he muttered, still grinning from his joking. She had been right all those years ago. Despite his serious moments, Gascon had become the more humorous of the two and Abirose the stricter and enforcing.

They assured them they'd do their best to honor them- to take care of the empire in their stead. They were finally ready to move forward with their lives as Lord and Emperor. As such, they were christened with their titles respectively at a similar coronation to Gascon's.

Of course, that's where they actually saw their parents' true dancing skills for the first time. The thinner twin had to eat his own words- he had only seen his father and mother dance as a joke before. Naturally, his initial response when Gascon offered his beloved to dance was to try and dissuade him, ultimately ending with him briefly covering his eyes. His sturdier counterpart managed to reorient his brother's attention to their fluid dancing.

It was difficult figuring out what to do with their days after that. Half of their time during the day had been spent taking care of their boys. The other half was spent running the empire. One of the things still involved that and it was advising them. The two would sometimes ask them for tips or about a previously done project that needed inspection. They were absolutely eager to answer, missing some of the business of their prior occupations.

The rest of the time was spent together as if they had never had kids. There was one difference in that, however. They never forgot that they were parents- the parents of the current rulers… partially. Marcassin was still the great sage and, the gracious uncle that he was, was glad to have his nephew join him in running the kingdom.

They spent a lot of time just sitting and playing blackjack, or platoon, or whatever playing card game they could think of. It brought back memories to them- of their lives together. It brought back memories of playing with their sons, much of their skills in strategy steeped heavily in these games that had kept their parents' bond strong.

"You know, in all these years, I've never once asked you what your favorite color is," Swaine wondered, holding a hand of cards in front of him, spending time with his love. He had taken the day off. "I assume two colors, but I just don't know." He thought of the black outfit she wore a while ago.

They had been together for some time now… One of them would say thirty, but the other would say twenty-five if anyone dared to ask. Parts of his hair had started to grey, though more so than Abbie's. There was an increase in the number of wrinkles and lines around the face and mouth for both of them, but due to good health- their cheeks didn't droop as much as either thought they would.

"It… took you thirty years to think to ask," she wondered quizzically.

He placed his hand down. "I was too busy dealing with kingly matters, raising kids, and loving you," he shot back. "Oh! I win this hand!" He smirked at the cards. She had sixteen, he had nineteen.

She reached over and turned the cards around so they were upside down. "Now you don't."

He narrowed his eyes at the move. He leaned back and crossed his arms as he smirked at her. "Cheater." He shrugged. "You still have to pay up." They were playing the version they had played the day they had kicked off their romance- whoever won got to answer a question. It didn't matter what the question was- they just had to answer it.

"Do I have to…," she whined, pouting.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Swaine complained. "I'm just asking you a simple question."

"If it's a simple question, then why did it take you thirty years to ask it," she indicated with an index finger stretched towards him.

"It never crossed my mind until now," he reasoned. It was funny; he knew his brother's favorite color was purple and his was green- any green. He even knew Esther's and Oliver's. But the love of his life? He hadn't even thought to ask her. He never felt it was necessary. He raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed. "So, what is it?"

"Green," she blurted out without thinking. She quickly placed a hand to her mouth. "Green," she squeaked. She never thought of her favorite color all too much herself. She was surprised when she shouted out that color.

The former emperor thief blinked and his arms slightly relaxed. "'Green'," he asked her, tilting his head. "I would have thought- no. Never mind. It doesn't matter what I thought," he waived. He thought it was black or even orange. But green…?

"You… just now thought of what your favorite color is, didn't you," he quickly surmised.

She nodded, her brown and grey hair bobbing with her head, her hand still covering her mouth.

He sat in silence as he leaned over the table, looking down at the selection in front of him. He glanced up with his eyes and smirked. "You chose green because of me, didn't you…? Because I wear green a lot- I was even wearing it in the casino." His smirk grew into a grin.

She finally lowered her hand. "Perhaps.  _You_  still waited until thirty years after to ask me that question. God… you're…," she started to say. She shook her head, chuckling quietly to herself. "A spectacular human being, Gascon," she said in both sarcasm and earnest.

He smiled back at her, admiring how cheerful she looked. "And you're as beautiful as the day we met, Abirose."

She held a hand to her chest, a blush rushing to her face. "You're just flattering an old woman."

"Oh, I mean it." He reached over to her hand and took it, examining it. "Still just as warm. Still just as small. Still just as strong." He looked back up and clasped another hand around hers. "That's my rose."

"Gascon… You do realize I'm sixty, now, don't you?" She took an index finger and traced the back of the wrinkly, long, and worn fingers of her thief. "We've gotten quite old."

"I keep forgetting that we're ten years apart," he recalled.

"Gascon…," she sighed, smirking. "You didn't worry about that, then…" She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "What you  _did_  worry about was me."

He tilted his head at her curiously, thoughtfully. "How'd I get so lucky, hmm?"

She scoffed playfully, leaning back. "Well, you've never been the lucky type. You have me for, one."

"That's unlucky… how," he questioned her. When she only responded with a knowing smile and a blush, he laughed. He began to try and pull himself from his seat, his body resisting at every attempt. The years had not been kind to him, but fate had.

"Gascon, what are you up to?" Her gaze followed him.

When he was finally up, he walked over to a shelf housing a few records, selected one, and put it on to play on the phonograph next to the work desk. When he returned, he extended a hand. "Care to dance, my lady," he offered.

And she accepted gleefully. It had been so long since they had done so. She wrapped her right arm under his left. She pressed her right hand against his chest. They spun around the room to the rhythm of the notes- the big bands of Hamelin's orchestras giving it their all. When they circled back to the sofa, the music hit its climax and he spun her around in one spot. When he pulled her close to him, her weight toppled his balance.

They were sent careening back towards the sofa, his back to it. "Ah, hell," he swore, holding her close to him out of reflex- she was the closest thing to hold onto.

She too, clung to him out of habit, her hands gripping the shirt underneath his cape when she realized what was happening.

His efforts for stability proved futile… but at least she was spared from the abrupt impact thanks to his mistake.

He winced and grunted, before looking down at her with half-open eyes. She, with a slightly stunned look, looked back at him. They shared this awkwardness for a few moments before finally laughing at each other.

"You clumsy old fool," she jeered through her chuckling. "Some things certainly don't change."

"So, you remember that night, too, eh?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Honestly, we really ought to be more careful, Abbie. I'm not as durable as I used to be."

She shook her head. "Nonsense. You've got your brother." She stifled a giggle. "Who still doesn't look a day over thirty."

He tilted his head to the left and glanced up at the bronze ceiling, choosing to ignore the quip about his brother. "True… But the pain is still real."

She hummed in thought. "Do you wonder… if we made the right choice or not, Gascon…? To let ourselves grow old like this…," she pondered quietly. She rested her head on his chest as she had done so many times before.

He chortled and leaned his head against the back cushion of the loveseat. "I do. But you know, it feels good…" He sighed. "To have lived to experience old age." He looked back down at her. "Don't you agree?"

"Don't you ever want to go back," she wondered. She looked up at him, and, despite her aged look, he saw the same energetic youthfulness she always kept. And while his eyes seemed tired, a persistent spark of hope rivaled that spark of youth hers maintained.

He glanced at the ceiling again in thought. To go back…? He had once- at one time. He shook his head. "No." He nodded, confirming it. "It wouldn't feel as… genuine- everything we've worked for wouldn't feel…"

"Accomplished?" She sighed, nodding. "I suppose you have a point, dear Gascon." She lifted her arms up and wrapped them around his shoulders. "Not to mention we'd miss out on growing old together."

He scoffed. "That's for one! Could you imagine? What would our boys say?"

"Or their kids…," she joked. She giggled at the thought of grandchildren. "Do you think they'll find someone one day?" She closed her eyes,

He smirked. He placed a hand on the back of her head and let his fingers get tangled in her hair. "They will… perhaps in their own time." He rubbed her back with his other hand as he closed his eyes. "Love certainly changes a person. I say let them be them for as long as they can."

She opened her eyes and looked up. "I'm sorry."

He opened an eye to peer down at her. "Eh? What for?"

"Changing you."

"Hey! We changed each other! If you're going to blame anyone, you might as well throw me in with it," he playfully berated, faking an offended glare.

"Or maybe I didn't." She laughed as she looked up at his quickly softening expression.

He laughed back at her, seeing her point in the entire scenario. "I guess it depends." He shrugged.

It went eerily silent on them for a while. Gascon relaxed into the couch and Abirose seemed to melt with him.

"…Gascon? …Swaine," she finally broke the silence.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think… if we were to die… we'd see each other in another life?"

"That's a morbid thought."

"I know… But if we did die, do you think we'd still love each other?"

"You're assuming we'd die at the same time?!" He glanced down at her. "What if I die first?"

"If you do, I'd try to stay around as long as I can," she pulled one hand down and gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Someone's got to look out for those two."

"They're thirty, Abbie," he reminded her. He sighed. "But I suppose you have a point. You never know the future." He lifted the hand on her lower back and scratched his cheek. "Heh. Or as my father used to state all the bloody time- even on his deathbed- 'The future is a mystery to all men'."

"You mean what  _you_  coin all the time? What was the other one you like to say a lot whenever they brought up something ridiculous the other did early on? 'Let the past-'"

"'-Stay in the past.' That's Marcassin's favorite, too…" He shrugged again. "I suppose there's a part of me that's just like my father after all…" He groaned. "Even in death, he's being a pain."

She chuckled. "At least he'll always be alive in some way…"

"Do you think you'd be able to continue if I  _did_  die?"

"I think… it would ruin me." She buried her head into his chest. "Tell me. What should I do if you do?"

"Be there for them," he answered. "And live knowing that I still love you, Abbie." He traced the outline of her face. How it had changed since those early years. "I don't want you to fall apart. Not over me."

She pressed her face into his chest again. "I can't promise you that. Not when it comes to losing you."

"Alright. I get it." He heaved his shoulders as he sighed. "Fine. I'll try if you do. How's that?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Live."

"I… I promise."


	11. Author's Notes

(These are compiled and reformatted from the beginning and end notes of the fic. I figured it would be an easier read without me hounding the reader with my own personal thoughts.)

Originally, this was going to be a new story. For those of you on Archive, I was originally going to post this as a separate work, but I made this part of the Nymph Hugs series, there. As you may note, for those reading this on Fanfiction, this was in the romance genre because- as you have plainly read to this point (and I hope you have completely read the work and not just skipped to here) I  _did_  take the romantic route.

This did  _not_  end how I thought it would. I had  _one_  end in mind for it. I planned on making this a four-chapter fic  _would have_  ended a little open-ended. I really didn't do that, unfortunately! Every time I left it alone, it would haunt me. Every time I heard a romance song it would remind itself of its presence. I did it. I finished it. I ended it. But no, that's what I  _thought_  I did. I could not leave it opened ended for these two. As much as I am Victor Frankenstein to his creation in how much I slightly detest it, it is also similar to that of a drug! I had to finish it with something even more sealing than either of these endings I proposed that connected with each other.

Now it is done. Now this fanfiction, this story cannot rear its ugly head. It only lives on through the twins and trust me- their lives are  _very_  plain and not in any way dramatic in my mind. With that, I think I'm safe.

And it all started… Looking for Swaine's final weapons. It all started with the casino. God dammit, you two for being irresistibly dorky!

Funny thing is, I finished the first chapter after I got the last gun for Swaine- the Cad's Cannon. That gun's recipe seems more like something in his depth. Oddly enough, the increase in stats is reversed. If you want magic attack stats forty points higher, use the Masterthief's Magnum. If you want forty points higher in the attack stat, you want the Cad's Cannon.

I even included some callbacks to Nymph Hugs, how about that. I tried to integrate them nicely. Hell, even Midero and Svin are hinted at from that one lackluster fic. Actually, they're hinted at pretty heavily… but I felt that naming these two wouldn't help their characters as kids in any way and it would limit the creativity of how I describe them, I felt. These last two, the "Final Epilogue" were originally one chapter totaling eleven thousand or more words at twenty-three pages. I broke it in half. It needed to be. Or It would have been far too long of a chapter.

That is the largest amount of words I've done so far in a document, by the way. One day I may do more. Oh god…

What have I done… This took me so long to write. I hope it was worth it in the end. A lot of planning went into this. I mean a lot. A huge amount. Months. Several months. You have no idea.

I thought about this fic at work… Yes, I was still focused on my tasks, but when they're repetitive tasks and the radio plays nothing but romance songs, I can't help but think of this kind of fluff.

I really liked the idea of two love interests just missing each other even if they're so close. Just something about that cliché interests me.

I was just going to have them just talking but I really think the dance was the best course of action. Swaine can bust a move- do you see that twirl he does when he performs Tri-shot? He looks so suave, yet so dorky. A dance can be an emotional experience as well as a physical one, too.

For the dance sequences, they're often inspired by, surprisingly, a Swaine x Esther picture I've seen in the image searches where they're dressed in nice clothes. While I'm not a fan of the pairing, the style reminds me of Burton and is very well executed. Props to that artist and their skill!

I hope Abbie wasn't too whiny or spoiled sounding at first. I tried hard to make her less of a cold-hearted brat. Really, I tried to soften her a little since her first appearance. She becomes less standoffish and more mature as the story progresses. At least, if anything, I hope I excelled in that. I really wanted her character to work… though I still remain uncertain if it actually does to this day.

Abbie is actually, in concept, a Frankenstein's monster of a character since she's supposed to be the Blackjack dealer in the Crypt Casino. She's based on an NPC I rather liked the dialogue options of as well as her style. She ended up slowly breaking away from her game counterpart and slowly evolved into her own character. There's even a part of me that wishes that she could join the party, as I find her more intriguing than Esther for some reason.

At one point, I feared that I committed fic suicide with her character. If you think I did so I am sorry. But then I have some choice words. 1) What is her core problem? Tell me. Maybe I'll fix it. 2) You're choice. As much as I want people to read this fic, I've given up on caring what they think of her when it comes to liking her. I just care if she works. 3) She is, by all intents and purposes one of my favorites as far as building characters off of other references go. This is my reasoning for number two as well. I contemplated going back and redoing the chapter with her backstory. Honestly, unless people say otherwise, it will remain her backstory. I love what I've done with her and I don't intend to change her.

I was quite nervous that I screwed this work up cause… well… let's be frank. I haven't written a real romance fic between the main character and an OC since I first joined Fanfiction. Honestly, it was not one of my better ones.

I even considered taking a break from Ni No Kuni fanfiction save for a beta read I've been doing for someone. I intend to finish beta reading, but my mind kept redirecting me back here. Maybe I can finally get back to it. This story has been a sickness.

On that note, for those of you who have decided to press on, for those who have completed it, and for those who have been kind enough to give me your feedback, thank you. Thank you so much…

Yuni.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Trapped in a Mining Elevator](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455630) by [Yuni30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuni30/pseuds/Yuni30)




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